


When It Rains It Pours

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 3: Mockingjay, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Fertility Issues, Forced Pregnancy, Kinda, Unplanned Pregnancy, didn't know it existed, isn't that tag perfect, thirteen is not a nice place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 106,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24678160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: They convinced themselves they were fine because they just couldn’t deal with everything without the relief they found within each other, that they could safely do it again even. They convinced themselves nothing would happen, that the risks were so few they were inexistent…But when had the odds ever been in their favor?
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Comments: 478
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aschen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aschen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Must Be Something In The Water](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434901) by [EllanaSan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan). 



> Welcome, welcome! 
> 
> As promised, this is my new chaptered story. It is already written, it has 31 chapters in all and will be updated every Friday as usual. 
> 
> Some of you who follow me for a while may notice some similarities with my “Must Be Something On The Water” story (hence the aquatic titles haha), the reason why is that this one is mostly a crackish idea that I originally planned to wrap in 5 acts and I didn’t want to really bother with a huge plot for what was just a crack premise. Then, of course, well… Can I even write short anymore? So, plot did develop around the crack stuff, as well as stuff I didn’t really explored in MBSOTW, and this happened but, yes, the similarities with MBSOTW remain. 
> 
> This fic, obviously, wouldn’t exist without Aschen-kiln who, not only played unwilling cheerleader (we’re talking hostage situation here, I wasn’t giving her a choice but to cheer with pompoms when I was writing it) but who also gave me the idea for it by playing Sims with hayffie (as one does, you know) and accidentally or not got Effie pregnant, which got me to laugh and got her to say “imagine if it’s twins” which sounded so hilarious to me (because just PICTURE IT, picture their faces) that I told her if it happens, I’ll write it (still innocently picturing a 4-5 chapters top thing). Then, what do you know the Sims have a peculiar sense of humor… 
> 
> So, yes, this will be a pregnancy fic. Yes, it will be absolutely ridiculous. And, yes, we should all leave our suspension of disbelief at the door. However, since, apparently, I cannot write crack the right way (because you know I have to make the characters try to at least act in a credible IC way – keyword here is try) there is also angst in this story as expected when you know me and also when you realize this is based in Mockingjay. On the note of which, the timeline is really not that clear in that book in terms of how many days/weeks/months separate events so I improvised, bear with me. Also on that note, I’m going with a movie/book hybrid here, as I usually prefer. Effie is in Thirteen but we will deal with book!Thirteen and not the… thing they did with that District in the movies (yes, that means no customized uniform). 
> 
> This story will be rated M for satefy but, really, past the first chapter, there’s not much smut in it.
> 
> Ok, I think I said everything so without further ado… I present:

Haymitch didn’t _push_ Effie into her compartment but it was as close to that as it got.

Saying he was eager for some quiet alone time was a nice understatement. It felt like he hadn’t been able to take a breath since he had been released from the hospital because Katniss had _finally_ agreed to play the Mockingjay part. Eight had been a real disaster on a certain numbers of fronts but it had, at least, proved to Coin that Katniss could be the figurehead they needed.

Still, he had spent hours sitting in the girl’s hospital room, waiting for her to wake-up, rehearsing his little speech about earpieces and… He had been worried – worried sick, really – when he hadn’t been able to reach her from the hovercraft, when it had become clear she had gone rogue like he _really_ should have anticipated she would…

But he didn’t want to think about that right then. He locked the sliding door behind him, grateful that Effie still hadn’t been assigned a roommate because there was _no way_ he would share a compartment with Plutarch for months on end. His stuff was over there but he already knew he wouldn’t be going back that night – or likely in the next few days. Sleeping with someone close implied a level of trust he didn’t feel for the Head Gamemaker. He might have managed sharing with Beetee or Finnick but Plutarch was out of the question and he didn’t even understand who had thought the arrangement would work.

Or maybe it was Plutarch’s very cunning plan to make sure he would get a room to himself. After all, Effie had been there for weeks and most people got a roommate in a matter of hours.

Of course, most people weren’t an escort that a lot of Thirteen citizens and refugees would gladly smother in her sleep either…

Those considerations flew out of his mind when she turned to face him with a small pout, probably not very happy about being shoved in her own room. He didn’t leave her time to start _bitching_ , he kissed her, hard and messy. Her fingers immediately buried in his hair, tugging to tilt his head more to the right… She deepened the kiss but his shaky hands were already working on the awful jumpsuit uniform…

Oh, how she had _bitched_ when he had told her she couldn’t wear her customized uniform anymore… It pissed Coin off and they didn’t need that on top of everything else. She wouldn’t be safe if…

He kissed her harder, trying to stop his wandering thoughts from straying to topics better left unexplored for now. There were too many things that could go wrong and he really needed…

What he really needed was a drink but, since that wouldn’t be happening any time soon, he needed the next best thing and that was… Well, that had always been _her_ , hadn’t it?

“Wait, wait…” She drew back, a little out of breath, when he finally managed to get the jumpsuit open and off her shoulders.

“Don’t wanna wait…” he mumbled against her neck, licking the length of her throat and coaxing a moan out of her. That made him smirk against her skin. How responsive she always was… “Need you now.”

He had been steering her toward the sleeping area but he changed his mind. He didn’t want to waste time climbing on those terrible bunk beds, so he pinned her against the closest wall and nudged her jumpsuit past her waist…

“Haymitch…” she called, breathless and so aroused…

“I’ve got you, princess.” He nipped on that spot under her ear as her clothes fell to her ankles… There was still a tank top, a bra and panties in the way but he could work around that. His fingers slipped in her plain grey panties and he started stroking her while his free hand worked on his belt…

“ _Fuck_ …” she whispered, tossing her head back, eyes closed.

He would have liked it better if she had taken off the headscarf but that was the one thing she had refused to part with and, since she had agreed to wear the proper uniform, he had relented on that front. He didn’t think anyone would really mind. Some refugees wore scarves in their hair to tie them back too, after all, and nobody was punished for it. It should be alright. _She_ should be…

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.” he mocked, pulling himself out of his pants, forcing the worries out of his mind. He was only half-hard but it shouldn’t take long to remedy that. She was always very good at…

But she didn’t wrap her fingers around his length. She grabbed his wrist instead, pulling his hand out of her panties…

“No, wait…” she insisted, her blue eyes clouded with desire but her face serious. “We cannot have sex.”

He chuckled, a bit disbelieving. “Promise you we _can_. If experience serves right, we’re also _very_ _good_ at it.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance and gently but firmly pushed on his chest so he would take a step back – which he _did_ but with a frown.

“Effie…” He wasn’t _begging_ , that wasn’t it, but… Well… It was close to that. He could admit it. He _really_ wanted her.

She shook her head and hugged herself. “Haymitch, there is something…”

“Look, you’re pissed Plutarch kidnapped you with fake Peacekeepers, I get that.” he cut her off. “But that wasn’t _my_ plan. I just wanted you here cause… It’s _safer_ for you and I couldn’t…”

“We already had that fight.” she interrupted with a small concerned frown. “Don’t you remember?”

He was still holding himself and it was starting to feel a little ridiculous so he fixed his boxers, not bothering to zip up his pants again. Either they would resolve this and the pants would be off or he would strip down to use one of the bunk beds to sleep anyway – though he _hoped_ she wouldn’t be pissed enough to forbid him from sleeping with her in the most innocent sense of the term, sex strike or not.

Had they already had that particular fight, though? His memory of the past few weeks were blurry at best.

“When I was in rehab?” he hesitated. 

Her face took a hard edge, pure hatred burning in her eyes. “Do _not_ call it _that_. It was _not_ rehab, it was a _cell_ and if I had had my way I would have had all those doctors _dismissed_. Perhaps even _killed_.”

She hadn’t really been a fan of Thirteen’s version of rehab, he had gotten that loud and clear. The whole experience had been very unpleasant and had driven the point home that he would never _ever_ go through that again. Withdrawals had been terrible but the worst, by far, had been being strapped down to a bed naked without even a sheet to cover himself – for his own protection as well as others, or so they said. The hallucinations, the _very real_ pain… It had been terrible but not as terrible as the helplessness of it all, not as terrible as the _humiliation_.

He vaguely remembered sobbing for hours, begging her to finish him, begging for _mercy_ …

She was the only visitor he had been allowed – he didn’t know how she had pulled _that_ out, Plutarch probably.

He knew she had been there though. Wiping his sweaty brow, holding his bound hand, giving him sponge baths and snapping at nurses who tried to take over… Yeah, she had done a lot of things that he only vaguely remembered and preferred to pretend he didn’t because it was _humiliating_. And yet he was grateful because if anyone had to touch him when he was incapacitated, hers were the only hands he wanted on him.

“I’m fine.” he promised, reaching for her shoulder.

She recoiled again. “No, you are _not_. Your heart _stopped_.”

“But they brought me back.” he pointed out. “And I’m good as new now.” If you didn’t count the tremors, the hot flashes and the recurrent headaches, that was. “Come on, sweetheart…” But she didn’t look convinced. She looked a bit terrified he would drop dead in the middle of sex. “ _Fine_. Let’s forget fast and rough, yeah? How about we get in bed and just… _have fun_?”

He could do vanilla too. _Fuck_ , he could do sweet and tender if that was what she wanted as long as he got to bury himself in her and pretend the rest of the world hadn’t gone to _shit_.

She made a face. “It is not just _that_ …”

“You’re pissed about Peeta too. I know.” he sighed. “You think _I_ ’m not? I’m…”

“I am not angry with you because Peeta has been captured.” she cut him off, watching him as if he was stupid. “You love that boy as much as I do. _Of course_ , you did your best to get him back. And we _will_ rescue him. You _promised_ me. We had _this_ conversation too, Haymitch”

Had he? Those weeks were _really_ blurry.

But…

“Yeah.” he said. “Yeah, we will.” This time, when he reached for her cheek, she leaned into his palm instead of fleeing the contact. “What are you pissed about, then? What’s it gonna take to get you off the sex strike, this time?”

Last time, during the Tour, it had taken some serious groveling. He had held out for two days before caving. He was addicted to her, that was the thing. He _wanted_ her. _Always_. And, for all his denials, she knew it a little too well.

“I do not do _sex strikes_ , how utterly _ridiculous_.” she huffed, playing with a button of his shirt. “And it is not _that_. It has nothing to do with _you_ , it is just…” She sighed. “They took away my birth control pills when they ripped off my beautiful nails…” She lifted her hands to mournfully stare at her shortened, slightly blackened nails. He hadn’t been happy about how she had been treated when she had first arrived. Ripping off the fake nails, the wig and the jewelry and interrogating her for hours had been over the top. She hadn’t been supposed to be a prisoner. And it hadn’t helped warming her up to the District. “I am not on the pill anymore and there isn’t any condom to be found in this place. Contraception is _outlawed,_ if you can believe that. How _barbaric_.”

“Oh.” He dropped his hand from her face, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, slightly uncomfortable with the erection constrained in his boxers.

It made sense, he guessed. Thirteen had high fertility problems, they had years when they saw more deaths than births. It wasn’t surprising that laws had been put in place to ensure the population would grow and not be curbed.

It made sense but it still felt a bit… Yeah, maybe she had the right idea with _barbaric_.

Even in Twelve it didn’t go that far. Contraceptive methods were difficult to find and expensive but they _did_ exist and were available to anyone who could pay for them…

“ _Quite_.” She let out another sigh but glanced down at the budge in his pants, licking her lips. “Although there are still _things_ we can do…”

He really loved the idea of those things – hell, he loved _the things_ – but…

“We’re gonna be stuck here for months.” His voice sounded whinny to his own ears. “We can’t do oral for months.”

“There is always anal, I suppose…” she offered and she managed to hide the small expression of displeasure quickly enough that he could have pretended not to have seen it.

She was game for everything and anything, _always_ , but there were things she didn’t like. Things he didn’t even want to try to be honest. Anal had never interested him.

He wanted…

Well, he wanted her sweet warmth clenching around him, not…

“Could pull out…” he suggested, tugging on the knot of the scarf. When she didn’t protest, he tugged harder and tossed the fabric on the table once it came loose. He shouldn’t have done that, really, because the sight of her reddish blond hair tumbling down… Well, it was a turn on.

“That is _not_ a reliable contraceptive method, Haymitch.” she warned.

“Yeah, I know…” And he would never have suggested it with anyone else but…” What are the chances anyway? I mean… You’re…”

He winced.

That subject wasn’t one she was usually willing to visit.

“I am not _entirely_ barren.” she replied, as casually as she could make herself sound – which was _not a lot_. “It would be difficult without medical assistance and it would likely not stick, but that does not mean I cannot get pregnant. Just that… It is unlikely an actual baby would see the light of day.” She turned her head away, swallowing hard. “And, before you ask, no, it is not because the end result would likely be another miscarriage that I am willing to…”

He filed the _another_ under topics to revisit another time because it was certainly the first he heard of _that_ but now wasn’t the time. She was already getting upset, no need to add to that.

“I’m probably shooting blank.” he offered when she let her sentence trail off. “I mean, all the alcohol abuse… Now the withdrawals on top of it… The meds they have me on…”

He _had known_ he should just have gotten that vasectomy years ago when Chaff had done his…

“You are _probably_ sterile. I am _unlikely_ to get pregnant. And if you pull you we will _surely_ be fine.” she summed up, meeting his eyes again. “That is still _a lot_ of hypothetical. The question is… Are we willing to chance the odds, Haymitch? Because if _anything_ happens… If you run for the hills and leave me alone to deal with the mess…”

“Would never do _that_.” he scoffed. And then winced because it was probably _exactly_ what he would do if she ever got pregnant, accidentally or not. “Okay, fine. You know what? I’m not even in the mood anymore so let’s just… Let’s go to bed.” He shook his head. “We’ve been having sex ten years, we’re used to not doing it for months at a time… We can hold off for a few months, yeah?”

“We can use our hands and mouths.” she reminded him, sounding a bit unsure. “My breasts. Your thighs. There are _plenty_ of ways to get off without penetration.”

“Right.” He nodded, coiling a hand at the back of her neck and pulling her in to peck her lips. “We’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

He tried to sound more confident than he really was.

Because the two of them? He had long figured they were worse than horny teenagers. Never had any woman made him lose his common sense like _she_ did. 

The problem – and the next few weeks illustrated that clearly – was, they never seemed to be able to stop themselves from touching each other when they were alone in a closed space – never mind _a bed_. The new intimacy that sharing an compartment brought was spicing things up too and…

There were _plenty_ of ways to get off that didn’t involve penetration and they revisited _several_ of them for the following two weeks – they revisited them _at lengths_ .

By the third week, the war had left them ragged at the seams and Haymitch was _desperate_ to find the sweet relief that getting inside her always brought.

Later, he claimed he _slipped_.

She must have been as desperate as he was for the incomparable feeling of him being buried deep inside her because, once _the accident_ was over with, they went over the odds again and again, reassuring themselves they were worth the gamble, that her medical history alone and the alcohol abuse his body had gone through gave them some leeway… They convinced themselves they were fine because they just couldn’t deal with everything without the relief they found within each other, that they could safely do it again even. They convinced themselves nothing would happen, that the risks were so few they were inexistent…

But when had the odds ever been in their favor?


	2. Chapter 2

The siren that announced the dawn of a new day blared throughout the District and Haymitch groaned, startling awake like most mornings and barely stopping himself from jumping out of bed to hit the first thing that moved.

He _hated_ this place, he mused, burying his face in his pillow because… _Yeah_. As if on cue, the lights automatically turned on. Just to be sure nobody slacked off when there was work to do.

Eyelids fluttering open, he blindly patted behind him over the cover for… He found a hip under its heap of blankets – no wonder he only had the sheet left for himself – and groaned something that could have passed for a good morning.

Effie didn’t move or answer aside for a small sniff and he wondered if she was still sleeping. It had been harder and harder to get her out of bed in the mornings lately.

With a sigh, he sat up and stretched, wincing when his back audibly popped. He was getting so old… _Fuck_ , he _felt_ old. Withdrawals hadn’t helped on that front. 

“Come on, sleepyhead…” he gently mocked, nudging the heap of blankets. “Time to get a move on or we’re gonna be late.”

He couldn’t believe he had to be the one to remind her they were on schedules – and that there would be _consequences_ if they didn’t respect said-schedules. Well… It was a bit different for him, he didn’t have one tattooed on his wrist each day. He reported to Command and that meant flexible hours that usually stretched late into the night or lasted for days at a time. Effie, though… She had a tighter schedule.

He heard her take a deep breath that came out a little shaky, followed by another sniffing sound.

He frowned. “Effie?”

“I’m fine.” she mumbled, burrowing deeper under her blankets. “I just want to sleep a little more.”

“Can’t.” he denied. “You’re gonna miss breakfast and then you’re gonna complain all day you’re hungry.”

She was _always_ hungry, lately. _Hell_ , he always ended up passing her half of his plate when they ate together. And he _bitched_ about it but he also hated the thought of watching another person he cared for going hungry so… It was a small sacrifice, really. Food wasn’t very appealing to him since he had gone sober. He was nauseous most of the time.

He briefly straddled her body to carefully climb off the bed, about to tear the blankets from her grip… She tossed them over her head but not before he caught sight of her puffy eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks. She had been crying. And for a while.

It seemed impossible that he hadn’t heard it, that it hadn’t waked him up, but he knew she had long learned the skill of silent tears. They were the serious one. When she was making a scene of being upset, it was usually going to be okay. Crying and not letting him know it was happening… That was all levels of _bad_.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tugging the blankets from her grip.

“Nothing…” she whispered.

“Effie.” he warned.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t _nothing._

A part of him wanted to dismiss it as her usual need for theatrics. A few months earlier, he would have walked out, written it off as something that wasn’t his problem to care about…

But it was _different_ now.

He had forced Plutarch’s hand to have her brought to Thirteen because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her behind, he had admitted to himself that it wasn’t just… That _maybe_ it had become something _more_ than just sex somewhere down the line and that… Well.. He _was_ living with her, wasn’t he? _Not officially_. But he hadn’t spent one night in the compartment he and Plutarch had been assigned, his stuff was in her room and no one had ever talked of assigning her a roommate – the Head Gamemaker’s doing, no doubt about it. He _did_ care. And there was no dismissing that or pretending she was just making a fuss for the sake of it because he knew her, he knew her better than anyone else, and Effie simply _didn’t_ make a fuss when it _was_ serious.

“I am just so tired…” she confessed, briefly turning her head to press her face in her pillow. She curled up a little tighter. “I am exhausted. _All_ _the_ _time_. I feel like… I feel like my body has run out of energy and I just…” She let out a small sigh. “I am just _spent_.”

The bitter old victor in him wanted to snap back that they were _all_ tired.

And yet… It wasn’t like Effie to complain about _that_. Bitching about the lack of food or the restrictions, the uniforms, the fact that people addressed her as _soldier_ , sure. But _being_ _tired_? Never in their thirteen years of acquaintance had he ever heard her say she was too exhausted to get up and start the day. She was always up at dawn, always bursting with energy, always that _fucking_ tornado that would sweep inside a room – or his life – and leave everything upside down… 

He brushed her hair away from her face without thinking about it, gently wiping the tears tracks on her cheeks.

“You look a bit pale.” he admitted. And she had bags under her eyes. Then again, so did them all. But she _did_ look paler than usual. It could be put on the lack of sun, he supposed, but… “Maybe they need to adjust your food allotment. Maybe you need more meat or something…” Their food allotment was calculated based on their weight and muscular mass. Even meals were scheduled and organized with military precision. They knew what to give you in the mess hall because you had to scan your wrist to get your food. He couldn’t decide if it was actually fair or another way for Coin to control her citizens. “Look…” He glanced at the clock on the wall and its red numbers that always lit the space up even at night. “Let’s skip breakfast and get you to the hospital, get you checked over.”

“No.” she refused immediately, forcing herself to sit up. She swung her legs off the bed but remained sitting there and, for the first time, he felt a spike of _real_ concern. Her hands were shaking where they clenched the mattress. “I will be fine. It is probably nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, they’re gonna fix it quick.” he countered. “Maybe you just need vitamins.”

“I do not want to go to the hospital.” she snapped, glaring at him and quickly averting her eyes.

She chewed on her bottom lip, her breathing a little too harsh.

He frowned harder, his stomach properly churning with worry now. “There’s something you’re not telling me. You feel sick? More sick than just tired, I mean?”

For the longest time, he thought she wouldn’t answer. He forced himself to _not_ lose his temper though because she knew there was a war happening out there and they needed to go out of their room and do their part soon. She had to go to the propo studio and help Cressida edit the images of Katniss in Twelve. He had to go to Command and see what they could do about the situation in Four. She knew all that and the reminder wouldn’t have made her tell him any quicker.

“I am late.” she finally murmured, so low he barely heard it.

“Not yet.” he mocked, stepping between her legs and placing his hands behind her, not to corner her but because… He didn’t think she would have accepted a hug right then, it was the best approximate he could think of. “But the quicker you tell me what else is wrong, the quicker we’re gonna be back on schedule.”

“No.” She turned her head and looked at him. Her shaky hands gripped his shoulders, lightly squeezing, _kneading_ … “I am _late_ , Haymitch.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t get it when, all of a sudden, he _did_.

And, _fuck_ , did it hit him like a freight train…

“It’s just a couple of weeks.” she added quickly. “I did not really pay attention because my periods have never been regular. And it could be _stress_. Or even the fact I am used to a healthier diet. It could be _a thousand_ things. Perhaps you are right and I need vitamins or iron or… And my body was _never_ really reliable on that front anyway. Once, I went three months without having a period and it was just… It is just the way I am made.”

The way she said that, the tone she used… She felt _deficient_ – or, more likely, _her mother_ had drilled it in her head that she was – but he couldn’t really address any of that right then because he was still trying to come to terms with… 

“You _think_ …” he squeaked and cleared his throat so his voice would come out on a more _normal_ decibel. “You think you’re…”

“No.” She shook her head and kneaded away the tension in his shoulders. “I _can’t_. You pulled out every time. And… And _we_ … You probably can’t and _me_ , I am…” She stopped her babbling because her face crumpled. More tears rolled down her cheeks. “I do not want to go to the hospital.”

Because she didn’t want to know if they were _that_ unlucky.

He stepped back, a raw laugh rolling from his throat, and he rubbed his eyes, his mouth… _Fuck_ , what had they been thinking? That the odds would be in their favors? He was kicking the storage area beneath the second bunk bed before he even realized was he was doing.

It felt good though, to kick something, even if he wasn’t wearing shoes and it hurt his toes.

“You promised you wouldn’t be angry with me.” Effie whispered shakily, bringing her legs close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She stopped short of rocking herself but she still looked far too vulnerable to his taste. “You promised if anything happened you wouldn’t be angry with me…”

He hadn’t promised _shit_. She had said if they tried to have unprotected sex and something happened, she didn’t want him running for the hills and he had said that, on second thought, they _wouldn’t_ take their chances and after that…

After that, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking her and they had convinced themselves it would be alright because it just felt too good, so, _really_ , she had a point because this was on him and his inability to keep it in his pants when she was concerned.

“Oh, I’m angry…” he spat. “But not at _you_. It figures a washed up drunk and a barren woman would manage to get knocked up when some people try for years and nothing happens… _Fuck_ , the odds, sweetheart. _Fuck_ the _fucking_ odds.”

“It might be nothing.” She was _half-begging_ him to agree.

“Might be nothing, might be something.” He pushed his hands in his hair, tugged a little at the roots. His heart was racing in his chest and he felt a bit dizzy. That was the worst case scenario that could ever have happened: if she was pregnant…

_Fuck_ …

_Pregnant_.

Pregnant with _his child_.

He felt the sudden need to sit down and so he did just that, directly on the floor, while she cried and hugged herself on the bed right above him.

_What a mess…_

He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that. His mind had a very vivid imagination and let him picture in every colorful detail just how badly this could go wrong. A child of his… Never mind the fact that he would screw up and shouldn’t be allowed near a _baby_ – and that was without talking about being responsible for _raising_ a child – the possibilities alone… He didn’t want kids. He had never wanted them, not even back then with Mabel… Contraception was so hard to find in Twelve, children were almost a guarantee of every marriage but he hadn’t liked to think about that. Children got reaped. And after his own Games… Kids died. That was the harsh truth they lived by. _Kids_ _die_.

And _his_ kid? His kid would be the perfect pawn, the pressure point to make him fall in line, the obvious target to everyone with a grudge. _Fuck_ , if Snow heard about this… And, _hell_ , did he even trust Coin not to exploit the situation? 

And there were the kids to consider. Katniss needed them and Peeta… They had to rescue Peeta. They were his priority. _Always_.

Where did a baby fit into all that?

He had been stupid. _So stupid_. She had warned him and he had thought they would be alright. He had _convinced himself_ they would be okay just because he had let his _dick_ do the thinking and…

_It might not be that, though_.

She might _not_ be pregnant.

The odds stacked against _that_ happening were so huge… From a medical, _detached_ standpoint… It was _so_ unlikely…

“Let’s go to the hospital.” he declared.

“No.” she refused again, sounding a bit whizzed.

“Sweetheart, one way or another we need to know.” he decided, making a huge effort to pick himself off the floor. 

“If they say it is… If they say I _am_ pregnant…” She shook her head. “It is not going to stick.”

“You don’t know that.” he argued, tugging on her ankle so she would get off that bed.

“Yes, _I do_!” she hissed, not so nicely kicking his hand off. “My gynecologist… He said I would need treatment if I ever wanted a chance at conceiving. And outside of treatments, babies… My uterus is _hostile_. And there will be all sorts of complications. I will… I will _lose_ it, Haymitch.”

But would that be a bad thing?

If they had been anywhere else in Panem he would already have been considering – and _suggesting_ – abortion. But abortions were just as illegal as contraception and booze in this place. He didn’t even want to guess what the punishment for breaking _that_ law could be given how desperate they were to make their population grow.

So, would it _really_ be so bad if nature removed that complication they didn’t need?

One look at her told him he would _dearly_ regret asking that question out loud, though. All the more so if he wanted her to get her ass off that bed.

Besides… It wasn’t really fair, was it? It would make his life a lot easier but miscarriages… They weren’t without risks. And it would be painful. And he didn’t want her life at risk and he didn’t want her in pain either so…

What a _fucking_ mess…

“You said maybe it wasn’t that.” he reminded her, clinging to that hope. Of course, now that she had put the idea in his head, he couldn’t believe it was anything but. They weren’t _that_ lucky. And then he felt immediately guilty because her being pregnant wasn’t worse than her being seriously sick, was it? And maybe he had just tempted fate with thinking that and she would turn out to be ill and _die_ like all the people he had let himself love and…

“Maybe.” She sniffed, bringing his silent panic rant to a stop. “I do not know. I am _so_ tired… I swear I am not _lying_ or _exaggerating_ , Haymitch, I _swear_ … I just… I feel _tired_ … ”

“Yeah, well… Either way, _that_ ’s something we need checked out.” he grumbled. “You’re all pale, I don’t like the look of you. Come on.”

He tossed her clothes on the bed and watched her get dressed with slow shaky movements. He wasn’t sure if she was more scared or exhausted.

“I really do not want to go.” she insisted when he finally had her on her feet.

“And I really don’t want you to have a bun in the oven.” he muttered, almost dragging her out of the room.

He dragged her most of the way to the hospital, really. And the only reason he managed it was because she _was_ excessively tired. She was uncharacteristically whiny, a little on the clingy side too, and she kept crying the whole time it took to get her there, even though people kept gawking at them in the halls.

Not really normal Effie behavior.

He was seriously freaking out by the time he found a doctor. The man took one look at her pale face and immediately guided her to a gurney, flashing a light in her eyes, listening to her heart and asking questions after questions that left _Haymitch_ dizzy. He did ask about her last period and Effie started crying again but she didn’t seem to have any tear left so the sobs just ended up being pathetic little gasping noises.

The doctor left, replaced by a nurse who led them to a private room, helped her into a hospital gown, drew some blood and put her on a drip before telling them to stay put.

_Stay put._

Haymitch _couldn’t_ have stayed put if he had tried – and he _didn’t_.

He _paced_ instead, ignoring the beeping of his communicuff.

He paced and paced and paced and imagined more and more options in which she was dying from a serious sickness they could have cured in a matter of hours in the Capitol but wouldn’t have a hope to treat in Thirteen, which would prompt him to have to make a choice he would probably regret – and he imagined a lot of those choices, ranging from completely turning his back to the rebels, in exchange for treatment for Effie, to kidnapping a hotshot doctor in the city. Then, his mind switched back to more alarming possible roads of Effie actually being pregnant. _With his child_.

_What the hell_ would they do with a baby?

_What the hell_ would they do?

Effie, meanwhile, had gone back to sleep. She was lying on her side, looking far too frail and pale in that hospital bed, and, from time to time, he stopped his pacing to stroke her hair or touch her foot, just to reassure himself she was fine and alive.

“Here you are!”

“Shut up.” he growled, turning to the doorway before he even registered who had spoken.

It was Plutarch, not surprisingly.

The Head Gamemaker glanced at the woman on the bed and back to Haymitch. “We have been looking for you for a while. They are done with Katniss’ propo. We are going to release it tonight. The Capitol advertised an exclusive interview with Peeta… Beetee is confident he can hack the signal.”

“Good.” he commented and then went back to his pointless walking in circles. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“What is wrong with Miss Trinket?” Plutarch asked, after clearing his throat.

“Don’t know yet.” he muttered. “Look, I’ll be in Command as soon as I can, alright? I just… I need to be here right now.”

“Of course.” Plutarch immediately nodded. “I will explain the situation to our dear President, I am sure she will be understanding.” Haymitch snorted. “Now, now, Haymitch… Do not be like that. She is nice enough if you know how to handle her.”

“Sorry, Plutarch, I don’t have as much experience handling snakes as you do…” he retorted.

It wasn’t fair perhaps. The Head Gamemaker had done his best to be friendly with him and Haymitch liked him up to a certain degree. But they were never going to be best buddies. There was something that told him to be wary, that Plutarch hardly ever did anything that didn’t benefit him in some ways.

He sighed. “Look…”

“You are worried for your… _special friend,_ I understand that, trust me.” Plutarch waved the unvoiced apology off. “Keep me updated.”

“Thanks.” he muttered and watched him go before going back to pacing the floor.

Effie woke up half an hour after that because she needed to use the bathroom. He hovered right next to her the whole trip there and he would have probably stayed next to her while she did her business if she hadn’t slammed the door shut in his face, grumbling under her breath about the drip that made her bladder feel like it was about to burst and about him and his disastrous lack of manners.

His stomach growled as he was helping her back into bed – despite her protests that she could take care of herself.

“You should get something to eat. What time is it? Did you miss lunch?” she remarked, glancing around for a clock.

“I’m good.” he dismissed, dragging a plastic chair closer to the bed and sitting down since she didn’t look like she was going to drift off to sleep again. “You look a little better.”

“I feel less tired.” she admitted. “I feel a little more clear-headed too.” She shot him a guilty look. “I apologize for earlier, I did not mean to… to _freak out_ on you. Statistically…”

“We’ll see what the doc says.” he cut her off, covering her hand. “No point making plans when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

She lifted her eyebrows, a sad but amused twinkle in her eyes. “So you have _not_ been pacing around the room, imagining _dreadful_ outcomes, have you?”

He glared at her but it was mostly for show. “Thought you were sleeping?”

“I was. I just know you _that_ well.” she teased, smiling. The smile faded quickly though. “If I _am_ pregnant…”

“We don’t know yet.” he reminded her. And he clung to that. Because as long as they didn’t know they were _fine_.

“Yes, but…” she insisted. “If I _am_ … Please, do not… Do not turn on me.”

“That’s what you think of me?” he scoffed. “That I’d get a girl in trouble and not do the right thing? If there’s a baby, _if_ , of course, I’m gonna marry you. I’ve been raised right.” 

For a moment, she seemed speechless.

The second after that, she was furious.

“I am _not_ going to marry you just because you got me pregnant.” she snapped. “If _that_ is why you wish to marry me then I would rather do without, _thank_ _you_ _very_ _much_.”

“I don’t _want_ to marry you.” he snapped. “I don’t want to get married and I don’t want a _fucking_ kid!”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Get out!” she hissed.

“What? No way.” he spat, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“And why not?” she snarled, sitting up to better glare at him. “You do not want that child even if it exists so why would you sit here and wait?”

“ _Because_.” he retorted. “And that’s not what I said.”

“That is _exactly_ what you said.” she growled. “Go to Command. I am sure they must _miss_ you. That _is_ the most important thing in your life, isn’t it? Your little war?”

Her voice had steadily increased during her rant and he found himself shouting to match her tone, not quite thinking through what was about to come out of his mouth. “ _You_ ’re the most important in my life along with _our kids_ and if you’re too stupid to see _that_ , it ain’t _my_ problem!”

He was out of breath when he was done shouting and she was gaping at him. He realized what he had just said and winced. Then, she closed her mouth and her lips wobbled and he winced harder because, surely enough, she was soon _bawling_ again.

He had never seen her cry half as much as he had that day.

“I’m sorry.” he said in a panic. He hated seeing her cry. He _hated_ it. He had _always_ hated it even when he had still hated _her_. They tore at something in his chest, those tears of hers. “Effie, I’m _sorry_ , alright?”

She stared at him, still hiccupping and sobbing, looking half angry and half desperate.

“Why can’t I stop _crying_?” she hissed and he tossed any _fuck_ to the wind and sat on the bed so he could gather her against his chest. 

“Hormones.” the doctor said from the threshold, a tablet in his hand. “I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will there ever be a good time for this? XD 
> 
> Soooo... What did we think? Did hayffie handle the pregnancy possibility with the decorum and calm that always characterises them? ;) What do we think of Haymitch's proposal? Isn't that the best one yet? Will Effie ever stop crying? How annoying would it be to woken up by alarms AND lights every morning? (because it my case it would be very) How do you think they will handle the delivery of the news? Let me know your thoughts, pretty please!


	3. Chapter 3

The moment the doctor blamed her behavior on hormones, Effie knew what he was going to say.

Haymitch must have had an inkling too because he stiffened. His arms tightened around her to the point it was almost painful.

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” he barked at the younger man.

“Manners.” she muttered but her heart wasn’t in it.

That man looked too young to be a doctor. She was _at least_ fifteen years older than he was and that didn’t inspire confidence.

She was a little surprised Haymitch hadn’t let her go yet, hadn’t bolted away from her and pretended they were just friends. Of course, if she _was_ … It would have to change things, wouldn’t it? That meant they couldn’t keep denying they were…

“Nothing is terribly wrong with her aside for a small case of anemia that will be easily rectified.” the doctor declared. “But I _do_ want to keep a close eye on you, Miss Trinket, because… You’re pregnant!” The young man was now beaming. “Congratulations! Announcing that kind of news is my favorite part of the job.”

Effie wondered if Haymitch wanted to strangle him just as much as she did. Given how tight he was holding her, probably. _That_ or he knew just how badly _she_ wanted to and he was trying to prevent a murder. That would be just like him to focus on a potential murder instead of trying to digest the news that she was…

_Crying again._

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake!” Haymitch grumbled, dropping his head on her shoulder. “You’re gonna end up dry if you keep this up.”

She couldn’t _help_ it.

She had been _dragging_ herself for days. She had been so tired and so worried about being tired because she _was_ an active person and now the tears that kept coming no matter what she did…

“I have a medical history.” She forced herself to speak _clearly_ despite the tears that she did her best to swallow back. “The baby…”

“I know, we’ve got your file on record.” the doctor hummed, looking at his tablet. She didn’t even asked how that was possible, although she could tell Haymitch wanted to. She wouldn’t have put it past them to have a _whole_ file on her in Command though. “According to the blood test, aside from the anemia, everything looks good so far. I’m going to do a physical exam though, just to be on the safe side.”

She nudged Haymitch away from her so she could glare at the man properly. She didn’t like him. Not one bit.

Haymitch must have been stunned or speechless or back to imagining terrible things in his head because he let her go without a fight and flopped back on the hospital chair.

“I do _not_ think you understand. My doctor was _very_ clear.” she insisted. Then again, her doctor had been a _real_ doctor with a _medical_ degree from the Capitol University. What kind of studies did you have to take to become a doctor in a District? Prim was training as a medic and she was _thirteen_. “Any pregnancy would comport risks without a preliminary treatment and…”

“Yes.” the doctor cut her off, _quite rudely_. “We will have to adjust the dosage now, obviously. And, like I said, I will want to keep a close eye on you but I think it took quite well. You did not have cramps or notice any blood, did you?”

“No.” she gritted through her teeth. “But…”

“You had a prior case of extrauterine pregnancy.” he continued, tapping on the screen of his tablet. “I’ll check that out during the exam but I don’t see any alarming signs of a repeat.”

“Can you stop talking and _listen to me_.” she snapped, making him flinch. Haymitch flinched too and seemed to come back down to earth because, suddenly, he was also glaring at the man – out of solidarity or because he needed a target to the anger she could feel boiling under his skin. “I do not even understand how this happened… It has been made _clear_ to me since I was eighteen that I had fertility issues and…”

“Well, yes, of course, but…” the doctor interrupted.

“I swear if you cut me off again I will not be held responsible for my actions.” she warned.

“Sweetheart…” Haymitch tried, sounding a touch worried.

She didn’t spare him a glance. “I _know_ what my doctor said. There is no real chance of the fetus being viable without a prior fertility treatment and…”

“Yes, but…” the man cut her off and immediately snapped his mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, go on.”

She glared at him harder. “I did _not_ get any fertility treatment so how can you stand here and tell me everything is _fine_ when everything is clearly _not_?” She hadn’t mean to shout that last part and the effect was probably undermined by the tears that slipped and rolled down her cheeks. _Again_. She angrily wiped them off. “I am going to lose it and it will be painful both physically _and_ emotionally and you are standing here, with that _ridiculous_ goofy smile on your face, telling me I am _fine_?”

“Sweetheart…” Haymitch winced, awkwardly rubbing her shoulder. “Do you want me to kick his scrawny ass?”

“I want you to find me a real doctor.” she snapped. “One who wasn’t still in diapers when we met preferably.”

Haymitch looked at the doctor and sneered. “Can do.”

He stood up and the young man took a few hasty steps back but he only piped up again once Haymitch was almost at the door.

“There’s been a misunderstanding somewhere, I think.” the doctor – who hadn’t even introduced himself, she now realized – said. “Why are you saying you were not following a fertility treatment?” He tapped on his tablet again. “You are within age range and there were no medical reasons you would be exempt… No, it’s right here… In your file.” He glanced up at Haymitch a little fearfully. “And… Do you mind if I check _your_ medical file?”

Haymitch had stopped short of walking through the door. He slowly turned toward the doctor, hands bundled into fists, a nasty suspicion written all over his face. “What for?”

“To… To check you’re in the program too.” the doctor stuttered just as Haymitch nudged the door shut.

Effie was sure he attempted a big nice fake smile but it turned out into a chilling _snarl_.

“What program?” Haymitch growled.

“The… The fertility program?” the young man squeaked, taking a step back when Haymitch took one closer. “It’s mandatory for everyone in childbearing age. It’s… It’s the law.” He hastily tapped on his tablet and then turned it toward them, his eyes darting from Twelve’s victor to Effie. “See? That’s your medical file and that’s the code that says you’re on the program too! I am sure they must have explained when you arrived…”

His squeaking turned into a squeal when his back hit the wall.

Effie distantly wondered if he was going to wet himself.

She didn’t really care because her ears were ringing and she couldn’t quite come to terms with what she was hearing.

“Are you telling me…” Haymitch started, his tone as pleasant as he could make it. “And think _long_ and _hard_ about _how_ you’re gonna explain that to me… Are you _telling me_ that you’ve been dozing us with some sort of drugs _without our consent_?”

“How?” she asked.

It made no sense. She had looked into fertility treatments back in the days and it had involved regular shots or swallowing pills according to a strict schedule or… It was _constraining_. There was no way they wouldn’t have noticed if…

“The food.” the doctor explained quickly. “The treatment is in the food. It’s adjusted to everyone’s personal needs and… _Please_!”

Haymitch was right in front of him and was holding him up by the lapels of his coat. His feet dangled a few inches off the floor…

“Haymitch, _don’t_.” Effie ordered. “He was not the one who dosed the food and all you will manage to do is getting yourself arrested.”

“So?” he snapped. She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was glaring daggers at the young man, that all he needed was an excuse to start throwing punches.

“So, I _need_ you.” she hissed. “And if you have to hit someone, aim a little higher in the food chain.”

For a moment, she didn’t think she had gotten to him. Then he dropped the doctor and walked back to the bed, flopping down on the empty chair and taking his head in his hands.

“If I go out there and punch higher up in the food chain, they’re gonna do worse than arrest me, you know.” he mumbled.

“We will have to find something better than punching, then.” she declared.

“Ain’t you angry?” he barked, looking up at her.

“Angry?” she scoffed. “I am _furious_.”

They had drugged them without their consent. It was a violation so deep that… _Furious_ didn’t even covered it.

She would have done _anything_ for the chance of a healthy pregnancy once upon a time. _Anything_. But that was then and this was now. She didn’t want children now. She had too much blood on her hands. She had Katniss and Peeta to worry about. And Haymitch… She would never have imposed children on Haymitch. He had always been very honest about not wanting any.

This wasn’t a choice.

It had been forced upon them.

“Good.” Haymitch chuckled and it was dark and dangerous. “Good cause _fuck_ helps anyone you’re set to destroy…”

The doctor was watching them as if they were crazy.

Who was to say they weren’t?

Another very real argument against them having a child together.

She was a little surprised the doctor hadn’t run out the door calling for security yet though.

Perhaps he had more of a backbone than she had given him credit for.

“I am pregnant…” she whispered.

“No _shit_.” Haymitch mumbled, back to gripping his head in his hands, slightly hunched over. She wondered if he was trying to keep a sudden bout of nausea at bay.

“Language.” she rebuked, pressing a hand against her stomach as if to protect the thing growing there from his profanities. The thing. The baby. _Their_ baby. “We are having a baby.”

Haymitch finally looked up again, his complexion was slightly green. His eyes were wide and horrified. “Stop saying _shit_ like that. I’m trying not to run away, sweetheart, I’m _really_ trying.”

She laughed.

She didn’t know why she was laughing but she did. Through tears that were sliding down her cheeks again.

Haymitch sighed. “There you go crying again…”

“That’s hormonal.” the doctor said a little hesitantly. He was still eyeing the closed door as if he would have liked nothing else than to dash through it but he took a wary step closer to the bed instead. “No one _ever_ talked to you about the fertility treatments? During you control visit when you first arrived? Maybe when you were being treated for withdrawals, Mr Abernathy?”

Haymitch shot the man a long suffering look that perfectly conveyed he wasn’t still completely safe from his wrath. “Do we _look_ like people who knew they were being doped? Do you _think_ we look like people who wanted a baby? _Right_ _now_ of all _fucking_ time?”

“Well… That’s _shitty_.” the young man said, making a face.

“Mind your language.” she hissed, pressing her hand harder against her stomach. She searched the doctor’s eyes. “So… The baby… It will be… It will be healthy? I can… You think I can carry it to term?”

“I can’t promise everything will go without a hitch.” the doctor denied, shaking his head. “You _do_ have a medical history that means we have to be very careful and closely monitor the pregnancy’s evolution, but the treatment acted the way it was supposed to and, for now, it all seems alright. You need an exam but that’s routine, really.”

“Do you still want another doctor?” Haymitch asked, sounding exhausted.

She hesitated. That one was still there even after Haymitch had almost beaten him up so… “He will do for now.”

“I will stay. _If_ you promise not to threaten me again.” the young doctor requested, only half-joking. “ _Please_.”

Haymitch studied him, his mouth twisting with irritation. “Fine. Can we get a minute?”

“Of course.” the doctor breathed out with relief. “I’ll be back in a few for the exam.”

Effie watched him go and then turned to Haymitch, feeling… She wasn’t sure how she was feeling. Angry, definitely. Stunned. A bit happy? Was it alright to be a bit happy? Wary, too. She was _absolutely_ wary. Wary to hope this could actually go well and…

“This is overwhelming.” she sighed.

“You don’t say.” he scoffed.

His grey eyes darted to the hand still covering her stomach. He swallowed hard. “I guess, at least… You’re okay. Could be worse. You could be sick or dying.”

“Is _that_ what you have been imagining?” she chided.

He shrugged. “Life would be very boring if you weren’t here to nag me, princess…”

“I have a feeling life will never be boring again in a few months.” she remarked, her fingers clenching a little. She couldn’t even picture it. A baby. A baby with his eyes and her nose and a good set of lungs…

“ _Fuck_.” he groaned. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“You have not run or shout at me yet.” she joked. “I am impressed.”

“I almost killed that doctor kid.” He closed his eyes, took deep breaths… “ _Shit_ , I need a drink… Or a dozen.”

“You would not have _killed_ him.” she dismissed. Roughen him up a little, maybe. She might not have objected either. She _was_ angry too.

“I was gonna hurt him. And _bad_.” he argued, rubbing his eyes. “You’re right, though… Wasn’t _his_ fault. Now, when I get my hands around Coin’s neck…”

“No.” she hissed, lowering her voice. “You _cannot_ confront her now. She is _dangerous_. I do _not_ trust her. We have to be smarter than this now, Haymitch. It is not just us anymore.”

“It hasn’t been _just_ us in a while.” he growled. “Katniss and Peeta…”

“That is precisely what I meant.” she countered and then she softened, she couldn’t help it. “The baby too, of course, but it is too early to take that into account yet. I could still lose it or… Look, let’s just focus about keeping the children safe and…”

“We’re gonna keep them safe.” he promised. “ _All_ of them.” He hesitantly reached out and covered the hand on her stomach. He snatched it right back, a look of pure terror on his face, and swallowed hard. “Right now though, you’re carrying one of them so that means we’ve got to keep you safe too. No more being cheeky with Coin. Best behavior until we’ve taken her down. We’re on the same page?” 

They had never discussed Coin so openly up until then but it was _obvious_ something would have to be done at some point. They had enough experience with tyrants not to recognize a potential one on sight. And Effie _hated_ the predatory way the woman watched Katniss. She was certain the so-called President would try to get rid of the girl as soon as she would no longer be useful.

A martyr was much more effective than a hero.

“Yes.” she reluctantly agreed. “Are you… Are you alright? You are taking this whole thing a lot more calmly than I thought you would.”

“I had time to freak out before we left this morning and while you were sleeping.” he snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t think it’s sunk in yet though. Doesn’t feel… _real_. Ask me again later.”

He stared at her stomach.

She stared at him.

He had aged ten years in the few months since the Tour. He truly didn’t need a surprise pregnancy on top of everything else on his plate. The children, the sobriety, the war… It was too much… It was…

“Tell me we’ll be fine.” he begged.

“We will be fine.” she promised, cupping his cheek.

He snorted. “Again. Try to mean it now.”

“We will be _just_ fine.” she promised, putting some cheer in her voice.

There was a knock on the door, the doctor hovered there uncertainly… “Are you ready for the exam?”

Right then, Haymitch’s communicuff started beeping in earnest. He grumbled and tapped on a button to silence it.

“You should go.” she said. “I am fine and I do not particularly want you here for a pelvic exam.”

He hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“I want to keep you in observation for the rest of the day.” the doctor chimed in, wincing when he was treated to double glares. “Just to be safe. The drip did you some good, you got some colors back in your cheeks. It won’t hurt to keep you on it for a few more hours. Maybe even the night.”

“I do not need…” she started protesting.

“You do what the doc says.” Haymitch grumbled, standing up. “I’ll be back as soon as I can escape, yeah? Bring the girl even. That’s gonna cheer you up.”

“Are we already telling people?” she hesitated.

He shrugged. “We don’t need to tell Katniss or Finnick yet but if you think the higher ups didn’t know the moment he typed the result in his fancy tablet…” He pointed at the doctor without even looking at him. “I’m gonna try and not get arrested ‘cause I punched someone in Command, yeah?”

“Please, see that you do.” She fought the grin on her lips just because the doctor looked entirely flabbergasted. “And if it _does_ finally sink in and you feel like biting people’s head off, try not to get in too much trouble while you do it. And do _not_ take it out on _Katniss_ , in any case. The two of you butting heads will help no one.”

“ _Bossy_.” he complained, leaning in to plant a kiss on her lips. It was just a peck but it was the first time he had ever kissed her in front of anyone and she stupidly blushed. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

She wasn’t sure he had even noticed what he had done – which was probably a sign he wasn’t as right in his mind as he claimed to be. The doctor closed the door behind him and cleared his throat. “Alright, so… Do you know what to expect or…”

“I am not a teenager on her first visit to the gynecologist, I know what to expect, yes.” she deadpanned. “Do you have a name? You never introduced yourself. You might want to work on your manners.”

“Steve.” the young man answered, looking down, contrite.

She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. “Is that your first name or you last name?”

“First name.” he said.

“You might _also_ want to offer your last name when you introduce yourself, Steve.” she advised, doing her best not to sound too aggravated. Must she teach him everything? “And add a _Doctor_ in front of it. You _are_ a doctor, aren’t you?”

“Licensed and everything.” he joked.

She looked him up and down. He still seemed too young. Closer to Finnick’s age than to her own. “How long?”

The smile slowly disappeared from his lips. “Six months?”

She was tempted, oh so tempted, to ask for another doctor… But he hadn’t run when Haymitch had almost lost it and, as far as she knew, hadn’t called security yet, so…

“I am not yet sure I am happy about this… _development_ , Steve.” she declared. “But I _am_ very sure I want this baby to stay where it is and be healthy for as long as possible, so I will thank you to do _more_ than your _best_. Do we understand each other?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“ _Miss_.” she corrected, a bit harshly.

“Miss.” he repeated, swapping his tablet for disposable gloves. He cleared his throat again. “Horne. That’s my name. Steve Horne. _Doctor_ Steve Horne.”

“Well, Doctor Steve Horne…” she sighed. “You are lucky to be cute, I suppose.”

Or she would have been a lot sterner with him….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you feel a bit sorry for Steve? I do. Poor Steve. So, hayffie is going about this the smart way. Or are they? XD They can truly be a scary couple, though, when they're on one mind. And they seem to be on one mind to take out Coin. What did you think? Any theory?


	4. Chapter 4

_Pregnant…_

_Pregnant..._

_Pregnant…_

_A baby…_

_Effie’s having a baby…_

_Effie’s having_ my _baby…_

_We’re having a baby…_

The thought swirled and crashed in Haymitch’s head, so enormous he couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

He found himself entering Command without remembering the trip there.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Haymitch.” Coin tossed, from the other end of the room where she was studying maps. Boggs was standing next to her, pointing at different areas in Four’s sectors and flashed him a sympathetic smile.

_Yeah_.

There was no way they _didn’t_ know.

_Know that Effie was…_

The room was buzzing with the usual bunch of experts, tacticians and advisors but it didn’t take him long to spot Plutarch near a monitor. The Head Gamemaker was reading a report and didn’t seem particularly worried about being cornered there. Then again, the Capitol had never seemed to have enough common sense to ever be afraid of Haymitch.

“I hope Miss Trinket is feeling better?” he asked, with a small smile.

“Cut the crap.” Haymitch spat.

Plutarch had the good sense not to pretend he didn’t know what he was talking about and winced. “I _do_ apologize. I did ask Medical to report Miss Trinket’s status as soon as they would know what was wrong with her… Just so we would know when to expect you… And I was _concerned,_ naturally… I truly did not think it would be such _tremendous_ news…”

“Ever heard of medical confidentiality?” he hissed.

Plutarch winced harder but didn’t seem otherwise troubled by the fact he had intruded on their privacy. _Capitols_.

He didn’t even buy the _I was concerned_ crap. Plutarch Heavensbee was just unable to keep his nose out of everybody else’s business. He had to snoop and collect secrets just so he could use them as eventual blackmail.

He knew the likes of him.

“Congratulations, Haymitch.” the Head Gamemaker offered, sounding genuine. 

Haymitch’s anger surged up, blinding enough that he _barely_ stopped himself from putting his fist into the screen to his left.

_Clever_ , he reminded himself, _he had promised Effie he would be clever_.

“Did you know they’re dosing our food with a fertility treatment?” he growled, lowering his voice enough that nobody else would hear.

Plutarch started and Haymitch didn’t think it was for show. “I beg your pardon?”

So it wasn’t just _them_ they hadn’t warned. He was ready to bet none of the refugees were aware. He would have to put the word out through Hazelle or Sae… And he was going to have to warn _Katniss_ , wasn’t he? He wasn’t sure what the girl was up to with Gale those days but he wouldn’t put it past _that_ boy to press his luck while he had the advantage. He would have trusted Peeta blindly but _Gale_? Wasn’t _that_ going to be a fun conversation.

“They’re drugging everyone.” he repeated, still keeping his voice low. “So, be careful where you dip your _dick_ if you don’t want to end up paying child support for the next eighteen years…”

Plutarch gaped at him, glanced at Coin, then grabbed his arm and dragged him to a further corner where they wouldn’t be overheard. Haymitch shrugged him off before they had taken two steps.

“Are you _one hundred percent_ certain?” the Head Gamemaker asked.

“Oh, _yeah_.” His chuckles were dark and bitter. “Trust me, I’ve got the pregnant girl to prove it. Apparently, it’s law or something.”

Plutarch pursed his lips, not looking very pleased. “I will have a talk with Alma. I suppose it can be argued that, since we are living in Thirteen, we should abide by their laws but they should _at the very least_ have warned us. This…” The Head Gamemaker seemed to realize something and looked back at Haymitch with some sadness. “Oh. You did not want a child, did you?”

“Did I want another _fucking_ Damocles sword swinging over my head?” he hissed. “What do you think?”

“After all you have been through, I cannot say I blame you. I do not want any myself.” Plutarch shook his head. “Abortion is not an option here but…”

“I think she wants to keep it anyway.” he cut him off before the man could offer some scheme that would allow them access to a more definitive option. He didn’t want to hear it or he would be tempted to take it – and force her into it. He would mention to her Plutarch had offered though. He _had_ to. It wasn’t his body. It wasn’t just _his_ life that would soon be upside down. But, as conflicted as she was, he didn’t think she would want an abortion in the end and he didn’t want to hear the scheme because…

Well, he was always going to do what she wanted, wasn’t he?

It hadn’t even entered his mind before that very moment that there was another _very_ simple solution to that baby problem. He could just tell Effie he didn’t want anything to do with it and… Leave her.

The idea flashed in his mind and he immediately dismissed it, feeling disgusted with himself for even _thinking_ it. His mother would be rolling in her grave.

And even without considering his upbringing…

He _needed_ to protect Effie. He needed to make sure she was safe. That was why he had brought her to Thirteen to begin with, because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, of taking the gamble that she would be safer in the city than she would be with the rebels… Because he wanted her with him, if he was really honest, because he _needed_ her with him. To ground him, to help him, to challenge him when he needed to be challenge and everyone else was too chicken to do it… She was his escort, his _partner…_

And his feelings for her…

He should have known better than getting involved. He _should_ have known better. Now, he had gone and not only put _her_ in danger but their child would be…

“The offer stands.” Plutarch promised, patting his shoulder. “If the two of you want another option, I will make it happen. When we take Four… They have hospitals there and excellent doctors.”

He nodded his thanks, his anger toward the man deflating a little. Not that it helped with the general anguish he was feeling…

Nothing helped.

Not studying the new maps or the troops movements, not involving himself in the war they were stuck in…

_Effie was pregnant._

It slammed back into him now and then, at random times.

Effie was pregnant.

They were having a baby.

A tiny human being.

That he would have to protect.

That he would likely _fail_ to protect.

That…

Hours flew by.

He lost count.

He could barely focus on his work. Soon, the girl was in the briefing room – had been in the briefing room for a while, really – watching him with a scowl and talking, although her words didn’t penetrate the thick shocked bubble of this knowledge: Effie was pregnant.

_Pregnant_.

It was a weird word, wasn’t it? _Pregnant_.

“I need a drink.” he told Katniss.

That only made her scowl harder.

Of course, then, the scowl turned into worry when Peeta appeared on every screen. _That_ helped him focus, though, because the boy… They had done a bad job of hiding the bruises under the make-up. And he looked… _weird_. Glassy eyes, odd expression on his face…

The rebels counter-attacked with the images of Katniss in Twelve singing _The Hanging Tree_. That song…

It was haunting and depressing and every time Haymitch heard it…

Then it was chaos. Peeta’s warning, the sirens screaming, _people_ screaming…

Katniss dashed away to find Prim before he could grab her and forbid her from doing _just that_ , before he could keep her glued to his side where he could make sure she was _safe…_ Once she had run away though, he would have done the exact same thing she did: run and find Effie, but Boggs blocked his path, reminded him they needed him in Command…

“She will be fine.” Plutarch promised. “Everyone will be evacuated.”

And that was how he ended up in the new emergency Command, so deep beneath the earth that just _picturing_ the amount of dirt above his head made him feel claustrophobic, watching, useless and helpless, as Coin efficiently manned the deck.

When the first bomb dropped, he was certain they were done for.

He had to give that to Alma Coin, she was an excellent General. She never lost her cool, not _once_. Planes kept on coming, bombs kept on shaking the bunker, plaster fell from the ceiling… She barely even blinked. She organized the counter-defense, gave orders…

Plutarch chimed in when he could with his knowledge of the Capitol’s forces…

Haymitch had nothing to bring to the table. He was good at tactics but this was beyond him. Air forces, drones, ground defense… It wasn’t war strategy, it was immediate counterstrike. _Instinct_ and _experience_ all rolled into one.

It was a little impressive and he might have _been_ impressed if he had been certain everyone he cared about was safe.

Temporary Command was isolated, at a deeper level than the population bunkers. There was no way to tell if everyone was accounted for.

Although, as Boggs pointed out, if Katniss had been missing they would already know.

But Katniss wasn’t the only one he was concerned about.

Dawn had long passed when the bombs stopped rocking the District and Coin finally dropped on a chair, exhausted. Someone had broken out the emergency supply of coffee and she eagerly accepted a cup.

“We will likely have a few hours of respite but they will be back.” she professed, sipping long gulps of her coffee. “I will address the citizens, then we should try to get some rest while we can. Those of you who have families… Go check on them.”

That was more generous than he had expected. Of course, she probably meant people who had actual _official_ spouses and kids but Haymitch slipped out of Command with the handful of people anyway, ignoring their weird looks.

The corridors were safe enough at this level but they weren’t reinforced with steel like the bunkers were and that was why people were forbidden from leaving their designated areas for now. It took him a few minutes to locate the bunk bed allocated to Effie’s compartment number. It was empty.

“She’s in the medical section.” Katniss told him, appearing at this side.

“They won’t tell us why and they won’t let us go see her.” Finnick added.

He barely refrained from asking if the two of them were joined at the hips now. Still, he hugged the girl because he had been worried and took the time to sit down and talk about Peeta with her. He reassured her as best as he could but… The truth of the matter was that he didn’t know if the boy was alright. They might have killed him for warning them.

They needed to rescue him and as soon as possible.

“Why is Effie stuck in the medical section?” Finnick asked, as soon as Katniss had wandered away to check on Prim. She was taking her role as the Mockingjay seriously at least, pretending not to be afraid so the kids who were gravitating around her wouldn’t be afraid either… He was proud of her, he realized. _So_ _proud_ …

He looked at the boy and didn’t know what to tell him.

Finnick looked so much older than he ought to. And the kid was still fiddling with that piece of rope…

“She was in the hospital before this _shit_ happens.” he sighed. “I guess they didn’t let her go when they evacuated.”

And that was probably a _good_ thing because they must have evacuated the wounded and sick people first and… At least, she had been safe all along.

“Yeah, but… _why_?” Finnick insisted. “Is she alright?”

“She’s…” He hesitated. He had to tell people about the food thing but he didn’t want to get into it right then. He was tired, stressed and worried about far too many things. “She’s fine.”

“Haymitch.” Four’s victor growled, sensing the lie probably.

“Later, okay?” he sighed, almost begging. “I promise, last I’ve seen her, she was alright. Tired but alright. I’ll explain but not now.”

Finnick didn’t look happy but he didn’t press for more, probably satisfied by the knowledge she wasn’t secretly dying – not unlike that crush of his. “Are you going to see her? Will they even _let_ you? We tried to go with Katniss but they wouldn’t let us and _we_ have the fancy tags that say we’re insane…”

The young man shook his hand so he could admire the white medical plastic bracelet around his wrist.

As if in reflex, he grabbed the golden bangle around his own.

“I’d like to see them stop me.” he scoffed.

Nobody tried to stop him.

Either he looked _that_ frightening or Plutarch had given orders. He walked out the bunker doors and down the not-quite-safe halls to the hospital section. It was much smaller than the regular bunker, obviously, and it was mostly wounded people in there… There weren’t many nurses or doctors around either…

It took him a while to find Effie without directions.

She was on a bed in a curtained area, lying on her side, dozing off… She propped herself on her elbow as soon as she spotted him though, looking very awake all of a sudden.

“You are alright!” she breathed out in utter relief. “Nobody would tell me _anything_! Katniss? Finnick?”

“They’re fine and worried about you.” he snorted, perching himself on the mattress near her hip. “The _fuck_ you’re still in here for?”

He was pretty sure they had let go of every patient who wasn’t at immediate life-and-death risk.

“I got upset when the evacuation started and they would not let me go find Katniss.” she admitted, lying back down. “And then when the bombing started… Steve did not like how high my blood pressure was. _As if_ I could be blamed for _not_ staying calm when we are being _bombed into oblivion_ and I did not know where you or the children were!”

She scoffed and he couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“Who’s Steve?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “The doctor.”

“Doctor Steve?” He lifted his eyebrows, amused despite everything.

“Steve is his first name. I am _not_ calling him Doctor until he proves himself.” she grumbled. “Can you believe he tried to call me _ma’am_.”

“The blasphemy.” he mocked.

“ _Quite_. I am _too young_ to be called _ma’am_.” she huffed.

“He’s about fifteen years younger than you, to be fair.” he pointed out. “You’re sure you want to keep him? He’s been a doctor, what? Two months?”

“Six, actually.” She pursed her lips, losing the theatrics and turning serious. “He was not pleased we were not warned about the fertility treatment thing and he is nice enough. The doctor I saw during my control visit put me on that treatment without telling me. I am more inclined to trust Steve than I am to trust any of them right now.”

He thought that over and shrugged to concede the point. “Just hate that we can’t have trust _and_ quality. You should get the best…”

“Yes, well…” she dismissed, waving her hand. “He will have to do for now. What happened anyway?”

He told her about the interview and Peeta.

She closed her eyes and made a huge effort to keep her breathing regular. “Do you think… Do you think he is still alive?”

“We’re gonna try to find out as soon as we’re back to normal operations… I’m gonna put the rescue thing back on the table and I won’t take no for an answer this time.” he promised. “For now, it’s all about dealing with the attacks.”

She made a face. “Are you telling me there will be more bombs?”

He nodded. “That’s what Coin thinks and she’s probably right.” He reached for her face, brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. “You’re crying again.”

“I know. It is _very_ annoying.” she huffed. “I was alright for most of the afternoon after you left yesterday and I slept a little last night. In between bombs.” She added that part with a good dose of sarcasm. “But I have felt exhausted again for a couple of hours now.”

“That’s normal?” He was completely out of his depths here.

“Some women have morning sickness, some will randomly get tired apparently.” she sighed. “I am not sure what is worse, to be honest.”

Haymitch licked his lips and dared glance at her midsection. It was covered by the rough hospital cotton sheet but…

“Has it sunk in yet?” she asked softly.

“Plutarch says if we want to… _terminate_ , he can make it happen.” he answered.

She flinched. He wasn’t surprised when she avoided his eyes. “I see. It _did_ sink in, then, I suppose.”

She made it sound flippantly amused, as if she had been expecting him to suggest that long before now.

“He offered. I _had_ to tell you.” he grumbled defensively. “I’m not… I’m not really happy with the idea. It’d have to be in Four and that means moving you. Panem ain’t safe, right now. And I don’t know what Coin would do when she found out so…”

“Does a part of you also _not_ want to get an abortion because this is our baby or is it just about practicalities?” she challenged, quickly wiping off her cheeks.

He wondered how long the crying thing would last because it was really disturbing. He couldn’t tell if she was upset with him or if it was just the hormones or…

“I don’t want kids, you know that.” He shrugged. “You’re asking me if I’m happy about this… Not really.” He sighed. “I’m scared _shitless_.”

“I am scared too.” she admitted. “And it still does not feel entirely real. I am still thinking I will lose it or…”

She let her voice trail off.

“You never told me about losing a baby before.” he remarked carefully.

She glanced at him and away. “Two, actually.” He almost didn’t want to press because the subject was clearly painful but she took a deep breath and kept talking. “I was eighteen for the first one. That is how we figure out my… condition. It was the extrauterine pregnancy.”

He frowned. “What’s that?”

“The baby was growing outside the uterus. It can be deadly in some cases, I was lucky.” she explained flatly, in a detached voice that was carefully crafted. “The second pregnancy, it was just a regular miscarriage. I did not even know I was pregnant. I had not realized yet. It happened fast. It is not a big deal.”

And yet it _was_. He could see it.

And she wouldn’t meet his eyes either.

“Was it mine?” The question was out before he could figure out if he really wanted to know or not. It wasn’t that strange a question. They had been sleeping together for ten years, they had been tacitly exclusive for more than five… It stood to reason that…

“I do not want to talk about this.” she whispered. “I never planned on telling you any of this.”

Which was all the answer he needed, really.

He took a deep breath, let that new weight settle on his shoulders… So he had lost another kid without even knowing it had happened…

And now there was another potential one to…

“That doctor… Steve… He seemed sure everything was going fine so far…” he said.

“Everything is fine now. It does not mean it will last.” she warned. “And you do not want the baby but you will take care of it, of _us,_ out of a chivalrous sense of duty. _I_ am not sure I am happy about this baby but I am very sure I do not want you to be stuck with me out of duty. So, yes, everything is _perfectly_ fine, Haymitch.”

Yeah, when she put it like that.

“Please, stop crying…” he muttered.

She rolled on her back, wiping her cheeks. “I _cannot_ control it.”

He couldn’t just sit there and watch her cry. He _couldn’t_. “Scoot over.”

She studied him for a moment and then turned on her other side so he could lie down behind her. The spooning position was familiar and he felt a lot better once his arm was around her waist, his thighs pressed against the back of her legs and his chest stuck to her back. He propped his head on his hand so he could still see her face.

Her eyes were closed and she was licking her lips a lot. Trying to get her tears under control, probably.

“You know…” he hesitated. “There are a lot of people here who want a baby and can’t have one…”

“Yes, I thought about that.” she answered after a few minutes. “But can you honestly tell me you would be alright with that? Leaving _our_ _child_ to the tender mercy of _strangers_? Trusting people you do not know to do the right thing? Not being able to protect him.. her… yourself?” She shook her head. “I know it would probably be the best of a lot of bad options but… I just… I _cannot_ , Haymitch. If this baby is born… He will be _mine_. It is a folly, I agree entirely, and I am not sure what will happen or _how_ we will manage it but… He will be _mine_ and however ambivalent my feelings are on the matter, _that_ is decided. If you do not want to be a part of this…” She took a deep shaky breath and let it out slowly. “This is your _out_. I won’t ask anything from you. I will… I will handle it alone. I can… I can do it.”

A part of him was so tempted to say yes…

“Don’t be stupid.” he scoffed instead. “Of course, I ain’t leaving you to handle this alone. It’s my mess too.”

She turned her head to glare at him. “It is _our_ _baby_. The whole situation is a mess, I agree, but this is _our_ _baby_ and it is _not_ the _baby’s_ fault.”

She hadn’t been sure of anything when he had left her in that hospital room. Funny how a few hours of reflection, some sleep and bombs forcing you to reevaluate your life could shift your perspective.

Maybe he would see more clearly after he got some shut eyes.

Yeah…

And maybe pigs would learn to fly…

“So, you want the baby.” he concluded, just to be clear.

“It is _your_ baby. _Of course_ , I want it.” she retorted, as if he was an idiot.

That was a strange way to put it but he kind of get it. If it had been anyone else… If he had just gone and knocked up any other woman in the District… _Hell_ , he would have made sure the woman and the baby never lacked anything, he might even have married her just because that was the right thing to do, but he wouldn’t have gotten involved. No, thanks.

With Effie, though…

Sharing a baby with Effie…

It was still terrifying.

Enough that it made his stomach churn and curl and that he wanted to scream and cry and dissolve into a puddle. It was panic at its finest. And that was without even taking the whole war thing into account.

But sharing a baby with Effie… Something that would _bind_ them together for…

“Can we do this?” he asked, sounding a bit lost and unsure even to his own ears. “I mean…”

She gripped his forearm and he tightened his embrace a little.

“I know…” she sighed. “But the war won’t last forever. Once we get through this, once we have won…”

“ _If_ we win.” he corrected. It was still up in the air at the moment. More so than a few hours earlier even, given that they had been chased deeper underground…

“ _Once_ we have won and we have found a solution for…” She stopped talking and clucked her tongue. “ _You-know-who._ ” Coin, she meant. “Then, we can decide how we want to do this. We will… We will be free, then? Won’t we? We can go _anywhere_ we want, do _anything_ we want… _Be_ anyone we want. Even… Even _parents_.” She licked her lips. “Twelve is out of the question and you hate the Capitol… We will have to settle somewhere else. And there are the children to take into account too… I am sure we can all agree on a nice District to live in. How about Four? I did always _so_ love Four… Katniss and Peeta seemed to enjoy it well enough during the Tour…”

“That’s assuming you give birth _after_ we won the war and dealt with… You-know-who.” he pointed out. “Ain’t sure we can do all that under nine months.”

“Less than nine months, most likely.” she pointed out.

That made his panic spike again. Nine months was a long time. He could even put off thinking about it when he thought of it in terms of nine months. Less, now? “Why? When are you due?”

“I am not sure yet.” she hummed. “Steve will be able to tell us when we have the first ultrasound…”

“When…” He cleared his throat because his voice sounded strangled. “When’s that?”

She sighed. “If we are not bombed into oblivion, in a couple of weeks. Not while we are in this place, I think… How long are we down there for?”

He folded his arm to use it as a pillow and laid his head down, nuzzling her blond hair a little. “A while, I guess.”

She let out another sigh and settled back in a more comfortable position. They would fall asleep, he mused, but that was alright. She needed the rest _cause she was pregnant_ and he could use some sleep.

“Guess it’s a good thing they’ve sobered me up, in the end, yeah?” he mumbled against her hair.

Because that was one thing he wouldn’t have been able to do if he hadn’t been _forced_ into it and… He didn’t really want his child to have a drunk for a father. He had been there himself and it wasn’t pretty. An innocent baby deserved better and he wasn’t sure he would have found the strength to…

“I am scared too.” she whispered. “I know I just made a big speech about handling it alone if I have to but… I did not really want this either, not like this in any case, and I am scared too.”

“I know.” He dropped a kiss on her head. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. It’s my _fucking_ fault. Couldn’t stop myself from sticking it in you.”

“ _Charming_.” she rebuked. However, her fingers found his and she squeezed his hand. “I did not stop you, I wanted it too. We knew there was a risk and we took it anyway.”

“Yeah, a _small_ risk.” he growled. “Wouldn’t have done it if I had known we were being drugged. I _promise_ she’s gonna get what’s coming to her…”

“Perhaps something good will come out of this.” she commented, sliding his hand all the way to her stomach.

He wished it was a life-altering moment but… He couldn’t feel anything. There wasn’t even a little bump that hinted at a baby.

It still didn’t feel real in that way. He knew she was pregnant, that there would be a child, but it felt an abstract concept yet.

It didn’t help him magically accept the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was an eventful two days for hayffie ;) I really hope you liked this chapter! Please consider leaving some feedback because comments are the life and blood of all fanfic writers and of your truly in particular ;) Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Also, I should be publishing the next episode of Katniss the Vampire Slayer this Sunday so don't miss it!


	5. Chapter 5

“Look, it’s _not_ a good idea.” Haymitch growled, trailing after her like a hound chasing a rabbit.

Effie pursed her lips and followed Finnick, annoyed when the boy slowed down to toss a curious look over his shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow and Four’s victor wisely turned around and kept walking. Behind Haymitch, Katniss let out an annoyed sigh. At the girl’s side, Plutarch coughed to hide a chuckle. Fortunately, Boggs, Cressida and the rest of the team were well ahead, scouting the way.

The halls were still untouched for now but, soon, they had been warned they would have to maneuver around half-collapsed tunnels. The upper levels of the District had suffered the brunt of the attack.

“Elevators are _not_ working all the way up.” Haymitch hissed, grabbing her wrist, effectively getting her to stop moving – forcing Plutarch and Katniss to stop moving too. She glared at him but either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care. “That’s _a lot_ of stairs, Effie.”

“I will manage.” she retorted.

She wasn’t exactly _thrilled_ by the prospect but there was _no way_ she would let Katniss get up there by herself to address the nation. Besides, they had been locked in those bunkers full to the brim with people for _weeks_ – and not be elitist but she was not as easily distracted as commoners by Buttercup’s tricks. Haymitch, at least, had been able to pop over to Command every day to distract himself. Once she had been released from the makeshift hospital, all _she_ had been able to do was sit on her bunk bed and _think_.

Think about how crazy this whole thing was.

Think about different ways to get her revenge on Coin for adding another difficulty they didn’t need to the mix.

Think about how Haymitch truly wasn’t thrilled.

Think about the fact she knew absolutely _nothing_ about infants.

Think about the fact that, whether she wanted to or not, there _would_ be a baby in a few months – if everything went fine.

Yes, she had done a lot of thinking and she was ready for a change so, truly, she was not going to miss an expedition to the surface.

And she wanted to support Katniss, naturally. She had spent _hours_ making her recite her lines but she knew the girl wouldn’t manage to perform without her there to coach her through them. Plutarch would _never_ get the same results she would.

“Sweetheart.” Haymitch insisted, gritting his teeth. “It’s gonna be a _long_ trip up, with _a lot_ of stairs and they dug out a path but _nothing’s_ to say it won’t collapse again or there won’t be some climbing to do or...”

“Boggs said it was fine.” Katniss grumbled. “But he’s gonna be pissed if we lag behind.”

“Very true.” she approved and turned to go on but hit a wall – or, rather, _Finnick’s_ chest. Not that she would have gone far anyway because Haymitch was still holding her wrist. “Truly, you are _insufferable_. What is it now?”

Four’s victor hesitated, looking torn. “You were so anemic you had to go to the hospital…”

_Anemia_ was the explanation they had given the children for now. Haymitch had warned several key refugees about the fertility treatment so the word had spread like fire and nobody was happy about it. So far, no one had made the link between her fainting spell and _that_ little piece of news, though.

“ _Yeah_!” Haymitch triumphed, squeezing her wrist. “Think about _the_ _anemia_.”

She shot him a _very_ unimpressed look.

“I hate to say it but perhaps they have a point.” Plutarch remarked.

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Oh, leave her alone, all of you! If she’s tired, we’ll just take a break and that’s it.”

“ _Thank you_ , dear.” she huffed.

“ _Effie_.” Haymitch snapped, shaking her arm once. It wasn’t a strong shake but it was one that didn’t want to be ignored. “Look, we’re not that far from the bunkers yet… You can still go back…”

“Didn’t we have this conversation _ad_ _nauseam_ already?” she hissed. “I am coming and that is _final_. Katniss needs me.” The girl made a face but didn’t outright object, which was probably clever because she was the only one Effie wasn’t annoyed with at the moment. She tugged her arm out of his grip and forced her voice into something less aggravated and more teasing.“Be careful, Haymitch, one might think you care.”

“You _fucking_ know I _fucking_ care.” he retorted, causing Finnick to cough in disbelief.

After hearing Twelve’s victor denying the slightest partiality for her for years, she could understand his confusion.

“We are embarrassing the children.” she pointed out. “And we will be off schedule. Come on. If I feel tired, I _promise_ I will tell you.”

They started walking again but that didn’t stop Haymitch from grumbling under his breath about stubborn women who didn’t know what was good for them and who wouldn’t listen to reason. It might have been moving if it hadn’t been _that_ irritating. She had expected the protectiveness to kick in because… Well… Haymitch had a tendency to be overprotective of the people he cared about and the _pregnancy_ thing would only stress that… She hadn’t expected it to kick in so soon though. Or to the extent she needed to _warn_ him before going to the bathroom because if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be he would panic and think she had been abducted – in the middle of a locked bunker halfway to the center of the earth, surrounded by soldiers and civilians, even though nobody knew she was pregnant yet.

To be fair, though, the trip to the surface _was_ a little harder than she had anticipated. They had to climb over some rubbles in a couple of tunnels and the staircases were long and dark, the only source of light came from the beams of the torches.

“Oh, can you shut up?” Katniss exclaimed from somewhere behind her in the dark, apparently just as fed up as she was with Haymitch’s relentless muttered monologue. “It’s none of your business what Effie does.”

“It’s fifty percent my business.” Haymitch snapped back, clearly not thinking that through.

“What does that even mean?” Katniss scoffed. “You make no _fucking_ sense sometimes…”

Effie wasn’t entirely surprised when Finnick stumbled to a halt, whirled around and flashed his lamp torch in her face. She lifted a hand to protect herself from its glare and, once she had blinked the blindness away, she found him gaping at her with wide eyes.

Well… It seemed the cat was out of the bag.

“I would estimate only five percent only for now, given the size.” she hissed. “And I am being generous. So, please, _do_ follow Katniss’ advise – although I do not condone the language, young lady – and _be silent_.”

“Effie, you’re…” Finnick stuttered.

“Excessively weary of discussing my health? Yes, I _am_.” she cut him off, tilting her head to the side. She winked at him with a smile though.

He grinned right back. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” Katniss called behind them.

“Wow, those stairs are endless.” Finnick replied without missing a beat. “Hey, Haymitch…”

“Don’t be a little _shit_ , kid.” Haymitch warned, probably correctly interpreting the teasing tone for what it was.

Finnick laughed. “Yes, _Dad_.”

Effie pursed her lips to stop herself from chuckling. Plutarch didn’t have the same restrain. 

“You’re all _so_ weird…” Katniss complained.

Even Haymitch let out a snort, this time.

They didn’t laugh long though.

Effie was a bit out of breath when they reached the top but when she caught sight of the carpet of white roses on the ground, she was glad she had insisted on coming.

“Oh dear…” she whispered, exiting the compound behind Finnick.

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asked, a bit frantic. “You’re feeling…” He stopped talking when he saw the roses.

Katniss came out next and Effie held her breath when the girl spotted the flowers. Her instinct told her to _protect_ her and she tried to usher her back inside but…

Watching Katniss work out what the roses meant was _terrible_. Her eyes were full of tears long before the girl finally crumbled in Haymitch’s arms, sobbing her heart out.

There wasn’t much to do after that _but_ climb back down.

Katniss escaped the group and disappeared to hide somewhere before any of them could stop her. And Effie _tried_ to stop her.

“Is it safe?” she worried, biting down on her bottom lip.

“We’re about to let people leave the bunker anyway.” Boggs shrugged. “It’s safe enough as long as she stays clear of the collapsed floors.”

“I’m going back to Command.” Haymitch told Effie when they were near the bunker.

“We need them rescued.” she hissed. “We need them rescued _now_.”

“I know.” There was a dark glint in his eyes that told her he would see it done. “Keep an eye on Finnick.”

Finnick was subdued.

The roses hadn’t been meant for him but, she supposed, it would be hard for him not to take them personally anyway.

Still, the young man forced a smile when she fell in step with him. “You know, if you’re looking for names… Finnick’s a good one.” She playfully whacked him but didn’t protest when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m happy for you.”

“Well…” she sighed. “It was not exactly _planned_ , mind you.”

“ _Oh_ …” Comprehension flashed on his face and he winced. “ _That’_ s how Haymitch learned about that fertility program thing… Oh, that’s _shitty_ …”

“Language.” she chided. “It is not _that_ bad. He has been taking it much better than I thought he would. But do me a favor and be careful with Annie when you get her back.”

The amusement died on his face. “She might be dead.”

“She is _not_.” she protested. “Do not think like that.”

“It might be better if she were.” Finnick argued. His arm slipped off her shoulders and he disappeared inside the bunker, leaving her alone.

She felt so powerless…

The two rebels guarding the doors watched her, clearly waiting for her to get inside so they could lock the doors again, but she pursed her lips and headed the other way as if it had always been her intention. She tried not to look nervous or guilty. After all, Cressida and the rest of her crew had disappeared to see what they could salvage of the images they had just shot; Boggs, Haymitch and Plutarch had gone to Command… She was the Mockingjay’s escort, nothing was to say she didn’t have business elsewhere. Did they know she didn’t have clearance to walk around unsupervised?

They didn’t stop her.

Katniss had a few favorite hiding places but she was not as good as Haymitch at tracking her down. She took the elevator – hoping all the while it wouldn’t suddenly stopped working – and headed back to the usual living floors in search of the girl. She checked the Everdeen’s compartment, the hospital – although she didn’t linger because, true to Boggs’ words, Thirteen was obviously getting ready to repossess the District and that had started there – and the few storage cupboards she had found Katniss in in the past.

It was eerie to walk down those deserted hallways, nothing but the echo of her footsteps and the sound of her heartbeat for company. Her imagination kept conjuring shadows at every corner.

She didn’t realize she had placed a protective hand on her stomach until she finally found the aeration shaft she was looking for, the one that was big enough for a person to crawl through the vent. The vent that had been left open…

“Darling?” she called, doing her best to peek inside. She heard sniffing but there was no clear answer. “Katniss, dear, I know you are upset but won’t you come out? I _cannot_ go crawling in.”

She _would_ have if she hadn’t been… Her thumb was distractedly stroking her stomach. There was a small budge there now, unnoticeable thanks to the shapeless uniform, but she was starting to show. Comfort in the bunker was perfunctory at best, she hadn’t had a chance to take a good look at her naked body yet. She wanted to see herself in a mirror, see if her stomach had lost its flatness as much as she feared – although she supposed that was only to be expected, wasn’t it?

Katniss didn’t come out or answer her.

Effie could only sit down and listen to her muffled crying and keep up a one-sided conversation about how Peeta would never want her to be so upset and how she was certain they would get him back. And she silently hoped time wouldn’t prove her a liar.

An announcement blared out instructions about the repossession of the District. It would be small groups at a time, people were invited to check in with soldiers because a lot of families would have to be relocated…

Effie didn’t move even when they announced the sector with her compartment number. She kept talking to Katniss until her voice was hoarse.

That was how Haymitch found her a few hours later: sitting on a cold floor, her butt entirely numb, her throat raw from too much talking.

She stood up and walked to him before he could come to her. She didn’t want the girl to hear. She wanted to know first, to be prepared about how to handle what would happen next because…

“Mission is on.” he told her before she could ask. He forced a smile but it was tense. Everything about him was tense. “Hovercraft’s leaving right now.”

He was fidgeting, his eyes darting around…

She grabbed his hand. “What is it?”

“Volunteers only.” He shrugged. “Boggs wouldn’t take me.”

“I certainly _hope_ so!” she huffed, glaring at him. “You would… _Haymitch_. You cannot put yourself in _dangerous_ situations. _Not_ _anymore_. If anything happens to you…”

“It’s the boy.” he snapped, as if she needed the reminder. “I wanted…”

“Peeta will need you _here_ when he comes back.” she cut him off. “ _Katniss_ needs you here. _I_ need you here.”

She stopped short of adding their unborn child to that list.

His face fell and whatever anger he had been feeling vanished into something that looked a little too much like despair. “There’s no guarantee, sweetheart. You get that, yeah? Cause… We need to be prepared for that. If… If the mission fails… She’s gonna lose it. _We_ can’t fall apart.”

She felt the tears rolling on her cheeks and she wiped them off with annoyance. He looked at her with worry but she waved her hand.

“Hormones.” It wasn’t really a lie, was it? If Peeta was dead, she _would_ fall apart. But she would _not_ let Katniss see it. “She won’t come out for me.”

She nodded at the shaft.

He made a face and groaned. “I’ll go in.” He cupped her cheek. “You go and get some rest, alright? It’s gonna take a while and I still ain’t happy about you climbing all those stairs.”

She pursed her lips. “I am pregnant, not made of glass.”

“Still.” he grumbled, dropping his hand. “Don’t tell me you ain’t tired.”

She was, as a matter of fact. She was _beyond_ tired again. It was a particular brand of exhaustion she had never felt before but that she had learned to associate with _growing a baby_.

“Fine.” she granted. “I need to figure out where we are sleeping now, anyway. I think they relocated our sector. That means I will never see my stuff again, I suppose.” Her pink dress, her wig… There hadn’t been much more of value in their room. “Is there anything you…”

He shook his head. “Got the bangle, got my family’s picture always on me… Everything else, I can replace.”

She bit back her smile at the mention of her token. It pleased her that he was wearing it and it pleased her even more that, for all his professed hatred, it was important to him.

They were alone in the corridor so she dared peck his lips before leaving, her heart heavy with worry about their tributes.

Thankfully, it didn’t take her long to locate their new assigned compartment – and it was officially _theirs_ , this time around, on account of her being pregnant and Haymitch being listed as the father on record, which he would just _love_. It was different from the one she had been allotted before. The sliding door still opened on a small living area and there was still one of those awful plastic windows on the wall – and the first thing she did was pull the curtain closed – but the sleeping area was _much, much_ better. No bunk beds in there. Just a regular – still a little too narrow for her taste but functional enough for two people – bed and a storage unit. It was smaller than her former bedroom _but_ there was a partition door that had been lacking in her other compartment that would allow them to separate the two spaces – which she wouldn’t do because that would quickly make her claustrophobic – and another room that she first mistook for a cupboard. She realized, a heartbeat later that it was meant to be a nursery – and then a child’s room. The bathroom was tiny and just as unpractical as the last one though.

Still, she mused, sitting down on her brand new bed without being forced to climb and wriggled to reach it, overall an improvement. She would take a family compartment over a regular one any day. She was grateful.

She told herself it was why she spent the next half-hour crying and not at all because she was worried _sick_ about the boy…

Peeta…

It hurt to think about the fact she might never see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they ALMOST manage to keep the secret XD Katniss is still in the dark, although, for how long? :p Who wants to bet on how long it will take Effie to snap and murder Haymitch because he's an overprotective idiot who thinks she will get abducted if he turns his back? On the bright side, no more bunk beds. Is that worth having a baby? XD
> 
> Tell me your thoughts! Tell me everything!


	6. Chapter 6

Telling Katniss about the rescue went just as well as Haymitch had expected.

She had refused to be sedated and he wondered if she was just braver than he was or much more stupid. If anyone had offered oblivion to him, he would have gladly taken it.

“Effie’s pregnant.” he heard himself say, after what felt like hours sitting silently side by side in that cramped space. Aeration shafts weren’t made for grown men.

The girl had been catatonic after he had explained everything – and Gale being gone might have played a role in that – but she turned her head so fast something must have snapped in her neck. “What?”

He sighed. “You heard me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want her to come with us earlier.” she figured out.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Not that she ever listens to me… Stupid woman.”

He meant to spat that insult bitterly but it ended up sounding fond instead.

_Fuck_ , but he was getting _soft_.

“Can Plutarch get her boyfriend out of the Capitol?” Katniss asked. “She must be worried about him.”

He frowned at her. Maybe she hadn’t figured it all out, then. But, then again, that was Katniss for you. A lot of things needed to be _spelled_ _out_.

Except he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to spell them out… It was embarrassing and private and it still felt weird to publicly acknowledge that Effie was anything to him but…

“Funny story…” he mocked. “Remember that stuff they’re putting in everyone’s food.”

“The fertility drugs? Yeah, mom warned me.” The girl rolled her eyes. “What has it got to do with anything?”

“Work it out, sweetheart.” he encouraged, hitting the back of his head against the wall a few times. Not too hard. Just enough to… _ground_ himself.

“She’s pregnant because of that stuff?” Katniss frowned. “But… Who?” He shot her a look and her eyes widened. “ _No way_.”

“Yes way.” he deadpanned.

“You _hate_ each other!” she countered.

“More complicated than that. Always has been.” he sighed. “Not _that_ complicated nowadays, really, though…” He closed his eyes. “Anyway… She’s pregnant.”

“With _your_ _baby_.” she spat.

She sounded _appalled_.

That made him snort with amusement. “Don’t have to say it like _that_. Most people say _congratulation_ , you know.”

“Congratulation?” She scowled. “Are you even _happy_ about this?”

Clearly, she couldn’t see it playing out that way. She knew him too well, probably.

“Don’t really have a choice either way, yeah?” he pointed out. “You’re asking me if I’d have gone and knocked her up willingly, answer is _no_ … Now it’s done, though, so…” He shrugged. “We’ve got to deal with it.”

Katniss looked horrified.

At least he had distracted her from the rescue mission, he figured.

“But how is it going to work?” she asked.

“We’re gonna find a place to live that we all like, you and Peeta too, and we’re gonna settle there.” he dismissed. “I’m guessing the baby thing’s gonna be a bit easier once people ain’t gonna try to kill us so… That puts the rebellion on a tighter schedule but we’ll make do.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” she scoffed. “Are you and Effie… Are you going to get _married_?”

That would be the traditional thing to do. In Twelve, if you knocked up a girl, you also put a ring on her finger. 

“Yeah, thing is…” He made a face. “She ain’t really happy about the whole _let’s get married cause you’ve got a bun in the oven_ thing, so…”

“Did you ask her like that?” Katniss mocked, scoffing again. “She’s _Effie_. You have to make it pretty.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ain’t sure you two should get married though. I mean… It’s the right thing to do, sure, but… You don’t want to be stuck with her forever, yeah?”

He didn’t answer that.

He told himself he didn’t know, that he wasn’t sure.

A part of him was a little too terrified that he _did_ know and he _was_ sure.

Everything went fast once they finally crawled out of the shaft. They had no way to follow the rescue team’s progress, they were going in silent. Katniss and Finnick had the idea of propos to distract the Capitol and then… Well, then Katniss discovered just how ugly it really was behind the Games’ scene and he lied to her about never having been in Finnick’s shoes because it was easier than going into details he didn’t want to revisit.

He paced in Command afterwards, while the kids disappeared somewhere to wait it out together, waiting for news. It wasn’t a big surprise when Coin kicked him out, annoyed by his restlessness.

He ended up sliding the door of his new compartment open. He tried to be quiet but Effie startled anyway, sitting up in bed, the sheets and blankets falling to her lap…

She was only wearing a thin grey shirt and his eyes were glued to her midsection. The uniform had hidden a lot and he hadn’t had a chance to take a good look at her in the bunker… Her stomach was…

“You’re showing.” he blurted out, stating the obvious.

Her hand flew to the small bump. She blinked sleep out of her eyes. “Is it over? Are they here? Is Peeta…”

He shook his head, crossing the living area to drop on the bed next to her – he could get used to _not_ having to climb a ladder to get in bed anymore, that was a distinct improvement. “No news yet.” He tossed his arm over his eyes and let out the long shaky breath he had been holding. “Finnick made a live propo. Aired the Capitol’s dirty business out…”

“The prostitution ring.” she immediately guessed.

“And all the blackmail material he has accumulated over the years.” he confirmed. “That’s gonna ruffle a few feathers.” She watched for a minute and then lied back down. He turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. Without him meaning it to, his hand drifted to her stomach. He didn’t leave it there too long. It spooked him to touch it, to know their baby was in there. It made it real, somehow. “Told the girl about the baby.”

“What did she say?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “What _is_ there to say?”

Effie’s face closed off, soon replaced by the cheerful mask of the escort. “ _Right_. I should get dressed and…”

“Look.” he cut her off, tugging her back down when she tried to leave the bed. She complied easily enough. “Thing is… I can see you’re getting excited about this…”

She hadn’t outright come out and said it and he knew she was silently freaking out too – mostly when she thought he couldn’t see her – but he had also caught her absentmindedly touching her stomach more and more with a dreamy smile on her lips.

“I am not…” she started and then stopped, hesitating. “It is not that I am _excited_ precisely… I still would have preferred…” She licked her lips, turning her head to meet his eyes. “He is growing inside me. _Our_ _baby_. And _that_ … It is a part of _us_.”

He found himself smirking. “Yeah… Ain’t than bad when you think about it like that… Half-you, half-me… Hopefully more you than me…”

She pouted.

“I know you still have misgivings, I do too.” she offered. “But… He is _ours_. I cannot stop myself from… I think I love him already.”

He could see it. It was all over her face. She was _glowing_ with it.

“You’re gonna be such an amazing mama…” He was smiling but the smile quickly faded. “But I’m gonna be a _shitty_ father. Everything I touch…”

“Do not _dare_ think like that.” she hissed. “You know… I would not have a child with anyone else _but_ you. You think you will be bad at this but I have seen you with Katniss and Peeta…”

“Not a good example.” he mocked. “They’re almost grown up and I’ve managed to _fuck_ them up even more than they already were…”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with Katniss and Peeta, Haymitch.” she growled defensively. “They simply have been through _a lot_. All they need is our love and support. Peeta, particularly. I do not want to imagine what they did to him.”

He didn’t either. He had a good idea anyway.

Torture was never pretty.

“And you are still wrong.” she insisted, bringing his hand to her stomach and forcing it to stay there. “I know you. You will protect this child to your dying breath, you will make sure he doesn’t lack anything and you will raise him to be a good man.”

“Why do you keep saying it’s a he?” he asked, staring at their hands. His was so big it almost covered the whole bump. He always thought it looked clumsy next to her delicate fingers. Although her hands didn’t look so delicate anymore, not with the blackened nails that she had started biting out of nerves.

“I do not know…” she hummed and there was that dreamy smile again… “A feeling? Would you rather have a boy or a girl?”

Either was enough to make him panic just imagining it.

“Wouldn’t know the first thing about little girls…” he awkwardly admitted. “A boy, I’d know what to do with...” He had helped taking care of his brother for as long as he could remember… Wouldn’t it be too hard precisely for that reason, though? To have a little boy that would remind him of Hayden all the time? “Then again, wouldn’t mind a girl who’d be as pretty as her mama…” He shrugged. “Guess, it’s alright either way…”

“If we have a girl, she will have you wrapped around your finger.” she chuckled. “Not unlike Katniss.”

He scowled. “I _ain’t_ wrapped around Katniss’ finger.”

She pursed her lips to hide her smile, obviously humoring him. “I would not mind a boy who looks like you…”

“Yeah… Let’s hope for their sake that child gets your looks.” he joked.

“ _Please_. No child of _ours_ could _ever_ be _ugly_. We are handsome and so will he be.” She sounded so smug and haughty, so _Capitol_ , that he shook his head. “He should be smart too. Like his papa.”

The word was like a dagger in the chest. Panic flooded his system.

He took his hand off her stomach and rolled on his back, closing his eyes to fight the sudden bout of nausea. How come she was the one pregnant and he was the one always nauseous? “Maybe we wait a little more before using _that_ word.”

“Sorry.” She sounded sheepish. “I simply _really_ like it when you call me mama.”

He snorted. “New kink?”

She whacked his arm. “Not like _that_. I just… I _like_ it. Are we going with mama and not mom, then? I do not think I want to be _Mother_. It is proper, of course, but it puts such a distance…”

“That kid ain’t calling you _Mother_ and it sure as hell ain’t calling me _Father_.” He was putting his foot down on that. “It’s gonna be Mom and Dad or Mama and Papa, whatever, but certainly not _Mother_ and _Father_.”

“Good, I am glad you approve.” she declared, snuggling into his side. “I want him to actually _like_ us.”

“Until he learns who we are and what we’ve done, you mean?” he deadpanned.

Her uplifting mood plummeted down.

“That _will_ be difficult, won’t it?” she whispered. “Telling them the truth?”

It would probably be _more_ than difficult depending on how headstrong the kid would turn out to be – and, let’s face it, they were both pretty stubborn people so he wasn’t really optimistic their child wouldn’t turn out to be the same.

“Good news is we’ve got around ten to thirteen years to figure it out.” he pointed out. “I’ve got much more pressing concerns. Like… How am I supposed to hold a baby and not drop it?” He held his hand up. The tremors in his fingers weren’t that bad that day but they were still noticeable. “What if I accidentally kill it? Ain’t you scared I…”

“I am scared of a lot of things but not of that, no.” she interrupted firmly. “We will figure it out, Haymitch. I do not know how to hold a baby either. We will learn.” She sighed. “Should we talk names?”

“We ain’t putting a hyphen or whatever you’re doing in the city.” he grumbled. “Either he takes yours or he takes mine.” And as much as the thought of another _Abernathy_ terrified him… “Should have mine, right? I mean…”

“Of course, he will have your name. We will be going against propriety enough.” She was so obviously trying _not_ to laugh. “I meant _first_ names.”

“Oh, that…” He winced. He was sure she was going to list the most _awful_ Capitol names under the sun… Fortunately, he was saved from having to answer by his communicuff beeping. He bolted off the bed. “I’ve gotta…”

“Go.” she ordered, reaching for the uniform jumpsuit she had tossed on the foot of the bed before her nap. “I will be right behind you.”

True to her word, she was quick about getting dressed. She was by his side right after he had told Katniss and Finnick the good news.

And that was a good thing too because it was _chaos_ in the hospital.

Johanna was rolled by on a gurney, her head shaved and looking _so_ thin… He hesitated but Effie was already one step ahead. She squeezed his hand.

“Take care of Peeta, I will check on her.” she declared. 

Finnick and Annie were soon reunited.

Boggs stopped him to give him a report of the mission, Katniss slipped away from him…

And then the _screams_ …

He was inside the boy’s hospital room before he even remembered having moved. Peeta was there, bruised face and all, eyes completely wild and unseeing, his hands wrapped tight around Katniss’ throat.

The boy had always been strong and Haymitch had lost a lot of weight and muscle mass in rehab. All in all, it wasn’t such a wonder Peeta managed to fling him aside when he tried to tear him off the girl. That didn’t stop him from trying again.

The second time Peeta tossed him, he hit a rolling tray that made pain flare up his back and he remained on the floor, blood dripping from his eyebrow, stunned.

Then, Boggs finally knocked the boy down, shouting for medics and Katniss was quicly rolled away on a gurney, Peeta restrained…

Effie appeared on the room’s threshold, pale and shocked. She gasped when she caught sight of him sprawled on the floor, bleeding from the gash on his forehead. “What _in Panem_ is going on?”

“I’m fine.” he anticipated.

_But Peeta isn’t_ , he didn’t say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, Katniss astonishes us with her powers of observation XD On the bright side, we have our victors back! Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know!


	7. Chapter 7

“He will be here any moment.” Effie repeated for the third time, even though she could see Steve was quickly losing patience.

What should _she_ say? She was the one lying on a hospital bed with her shirt pulled up right to under her breasts and her pants undone – pants she had been forced to exchange for a _larger size_ twice already – staring at the undeniable proof she was with child.

The tiny mirror in the bathroom wasn’t really enough for her to see how bad her body was suffering from this pregnancy but the bump had steadily increased in the last couple of weeks. As had her discomfort. She preferred to blame most of it on worry about the children but…

“We can wait a few more minutes but I have other appointments after you…” Steve winced, obviously a bit wary of confronting her.

She might or might not have bitten his head off once or twice in the weeks since the victors rescue. He kept arguing her blood pressure was too high and that she wasn’t resting enough. He had lightened her workload so she wasn’t working for Plutarch anymore but was only watching over Katniss – which wasn’t supposed to be work at all since Katniss was still in the hospital because of her throat but Effie spent all the time she could with the girl anyway because their Mockingjay could use the cheering up.

She had really gotten angry when the doctor had sneaked behind her back and had told Haymitch to make sure she took a nap every afternoon – like a small child! – she wasn’t sure if Steve didn’t know what he had triggered or if he had just been _that_ fed up with her but, ever since, Haymitch would nag and nag if she didn’t rest at least an hour or two every day. For someone who wasn’t thrilled about the pregnancy news, he was being _impossible_.

“He said he would be here so he _will_.” she hissed. 

Haymitch couldn’t come to every doctor appointment – neither of them wanted him to, to be perfectly honest – but that day was _special_. It was the first real ultrasound. And she had reminded him twice that morning before they had parted for the day. He had _promised_ he would show up. He had _promised._

Of course, she supposed there could have been an emergency in Command or…

The door to the examination room was pushed open and in barged Haymitch, a little out of breath. “I missed it?”

“No, we were waiting for you.” Steve said and rolled the ultrasound machine closer.

She pursed her lips. “You are _late_.”

He shook his head with a wince. “Sorry. I had to see Peeta’s doctors.”

“Oh, how is he?” she asked, while the doctor checked his tablet.

“Same. No change.” Haymitch sighed. He rubbed his face and she could see all the exhaustion he was doing his best to hide from everyone else. “You know the kids are all outside, yeah?”

She didn’t even try to fight her smile. Finnick and Annie had been waiting in front of the room _before_ she had even arrived – to say that Finnick was excited about this was an understatement, she was a little afraid it was giving him ideas – and Katniss had showed up not long after that. She had scolded the girl about sneaking out of her hospital room but, after all, her throat wasn’t even bruised anymore and the only reason she was still in the hospital was because Haymitch didn’t trust her not to try and wriggle her way past the guards to see Peeta again.

“They are excited.” She grinned. “They are betting on the gender.”

“Too early to tell.” Steve reminded her. “Your test results are a bit better this week but they’re not as perfect as I’d like.”

“You are turning me into a pincushion.” she grumbled.

She had to do a check up every week now and she hated it.

“You’re telling us when she’s gonna pop, today, right?” Haymitch asked, slipping his hand in hers.

He looked frightened – as always when they talked about the baby being born becausse it made it _real –_ but he was doing his best not to freak out for her sake and she appreciated that.

“I am not a _balloon_ , Haymitch.” she growled.

“Yes, I will.” Steve chuckled. “Alright, ready? You are going to be able to see the baby on the screen and we will hear the heartbeat.”

She was _so_ excited.

She bit down on her bottom lip to hide her grin and squeezed Haymitch’s hand. He did his best to look like he was not nauseous but she didn’t think she was imagining the hint of excitement in his grey eyes. He wasn’t at ease at all with the idea of a baby yet but he was slowly and surely getting there.

He touched her bump at night when he thought she was sleeping. The soft and tentative brushes of his fingers against her flesh under her shirt often tickled her awake…

The sensor made contact with her skin and there was a whooshing sound... Steve moved it around, staring at the screen.

“Why is there no heartbeat?” Haymitch frowned. “You said we would hear…”

And there it was.

The most beautiful sound in the world.

Effie’s throat closed and she had to fight her tears – she had _finally_ stopped crying all the time and she would _not_ start again. She closed her eyes and listened to the regular _thud, thud, thud_ of their baby’s heart.

“Oh, _shit_ …” Haymitch muttered. A chuckle escaped him. “That’s… _Shit_ … That’s our baby’s heart?”

“Yes.” Steve confirmed with a grin. “It seems you’re a bit further along than I thought, Miss Trinket. I would say you’re about eleven weeks… The baby is a little on the small side however…”

“What does that mean?” she immediately worried “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, no…” Steve was frowning at the screen. “Oh…”

“What?” Haymitch snapped. “What is it?”

He was holding her hand so tight, it _hurt_. And yet she didn’t take it away. She _couldn’t_. She was too scared Steve was going to tell them something terrible. She didn’t think she could lose this child now. She wouldn’t cope well with it.

Steve glided the sensor away to the other side of her stomach. “There are two heartbeats. And… There’s a weird echo.” He frowned harder. “Do you feel gassy, Miss? That’s totally normal for pregnant women to…”

“What do you mean _two_ heartbeats?” she cut him off in a hiss. She wasn’t keen on discussing her bowels _even_ if she had, indeed, been feeling a bit gassy. That was a side effect of pregnancy she could have done _without_.

“There’s a… a malformation or something?” Haymitch had blanched. “That’s cause of me, right? Cause of the liquor. I…”

“No, no, no…” Steve hurried in protesting. “I mean there are _two_ heartbeats. Look…” He moved the sensor back to its original position on the left side of her stomach. “Here, do you see? That’s a baby.” He pointed at the screen, retracing a vague shape. Effie couldn’t claim to pretend she actually saw a baby there but she immediately decided that it must have been the _prettiest_ baby in the entire world at this unflattering stage of pregnancy. “And here…” He moved the sensor to her right side, searching for a bit before finding what he was looking for again. “There’s another baby. Two heartbeats.”

The world tilted on its axis.

“What… What…” she stuttered. “What are you _saying_?”

Because he couldn’t be saying what she _thought_ he was saying.

“Yeah…” Haymitch coughed, loosening his already undone collar. “What are you saying?”

“It is not that uncommon with this sort of aggressive fertility treatment…” Steve said, almost apologetic.

He _was_ saying what she thought he was saying, wasn’t he?

“ _Fucking_ spit it out already!” Haymitch snapped.

Effie was still reeling from the news but she looked at him with worry. “Haymitch, are you alright? You are as white as a sheet…”

He _was_ white. Worriedly so.

She had never seen him this pale.

“Wow, wow, wow…” Steve almost carelessly tossed the sensor on the ultrasound table, putting an end to the thudding sounds and hurriedly stepped around the bed to grab Haymitch’s arm. “Try to breathe.”

“ _Can’t_ …” Haymitch kept on coughing, tugging at his collar. He unbuttoned the woolen sweater, slipped it off and tossed it aside. “Hot in here…”

“It isn’t that hot. Sit down.” Steve ordered but Haymitch shrugged him off and took a few steps away from him.

“What you’re saying… You’re saying…” he wheezed, all wide eyes and gulping air. “You’re saying…”

“Twins.” the doctor winced. “I’m saying you’re having _twins_. Do you feel any pain in your chest? Dizziness? Difficulties to breathe?”

“Haymitch.” Effie called, doing her best to hop off the bed – not as easy as it had once been.

“Pain in my…” he repeated, completely out of breath, before meeting her eyes. “ _Two_ babies?”

Then, he collapsed.

She _screamed_.

Loud enough to alert the whole District probably.

Finnick and Katniss came barging in, alarmed and ready for a fight…

Steve shouted for help…

It was chaos, _complete_ chaos.

She tried to get to Haymitch but Finnick grabbed her and held her back, hugging her tight, alternating before promising that everything would be fine and repeatedly asking _what the hell_ had happened…

They took Haymitch away.

Steve and the other medical staff rolled him out of the room on a gurney and she was left behind. She wanted to follow him but her legs were like jelly and she almost fell with the first step she tried to take. If Finnick hadn’t been holding her up…

“What _the_ _fuck_ happened?” Katniss exclaimed.

“She’s upset.” Annie shyly chided from the threshold she had never crossed. “Finnick, help her to sit.”

Effie wasn’t sure how she ended up sitting back on the bed, only that Annie helped her right her clothes so her pants weren’t hanging loose and her whole middle section wasn’t sticky and on display anymore.

“Can you tell us what happened, Effie?” Finnick asked, more gently, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Could she? She opened her mouth and closed it again because… _Being pregnant_ had already been _huge_. This was…

“Twins.” she squeaked. “We are having _twins_.” She coughed, a bit out of breath herself. “Two babies. _Two_.”

“ _Twins_?!” Katniss gasped and then gaped. Her mouth hung open in a way that was _definitely not_ worthy of the Mockingjay. Effie was glad when Finnick nudged her chin up so her jaw wouldn’t hang loose like that. The girl looked just as horrified as Haymitch had been though. “ _Twins_?”

Katniss clearly felt the pressing need to sit down and she did that right on the floor at Effie’s feet.

Effie understood _wholeheartedly_. She wanted to sit down too. She already was, though, wasn’t she? 

“Two. That’s _a lot_ of babies, isn’t it?” She laughed. She didn’t know why because it wasn’t funny. “Two. _Two_. I did not even know how we would deal with _one_ and now we have _two_?”

“Effie?” Annie was crouching next to the bed, searching her eyes. “Do you have a happy place?”

“A happy place?” she repeated, blinking hard because the lights felt _so_ bright all of a sudden.

She was dizzy. _Two_ babies. What was she supposed to do with two babies? True, she always bought a spare when she found an item of clothing she particularly liked but babies weren’t exactly shoes or wigs, were they? _Two_. What _the hell_ was she supposed to do with _two_ babies?

“In your head?” Four’s younger victor hesitated. “You might want to go there now. It helps me when I panic.”

“I am not panicking.” she refuted. “I am perfectly calm. _Perfectly_. Why wouldn’t I be? I am having two babies. There are two babies inside of me _right now_. And Haymitch… _Haymitch_ …”

“I will find out how Haymitch is.” Finnick promised, briefly pressing Annie’s shoulder. “Are you…”

“I think I should stay with her.” Four’s victor winced, after glancing at the girl still sitting on the floor.

Katniss hadn’t moved or said anything more so far but she seemed to shake herself out of her daze. 

“Maybe we should get my mom…” the girl suggested.

“I’ll see if I can find her.” Finnick promised. “Effie, try to stay calm, alright?”

“Stay calm.” Effie repeated. “I _am_ calm. _All_ calm. _Completely_ calm. The _picture_ of calm. I am just _pregnant_. Because they _drugged_ me. With two babies. Two.” She looked at Annie, staring at her hard in case she had misheard her earlier. “ _Two_.”

Annie, bless her soul, simply nodded. “Yes, two babies at once seem like a lot.”

Effie nodded right back, glad _someone_ understood. “Haymitch?”

“I’m going.” Finnick said and, true to his word, he left the room.

“It’s… It’s going to be alright.” Katniss offered, still looking all wide-eyed. The girl patted her knee. “You won’t be alone. We’re going to help. Prim loves babies and… I… I can do _stuff_?” Twelve’s victor sounded so unsure but her face suddenly lit up with relief. “Stories. I can tell them stories. I’m good at that. Prim loved it when I invented her stories when she was little. And I guess I can… I can sing them lullabies.”

Effie had been nodding throughout that little speech, not quite knowing why. At least until… “ _Lullabies_. I do not know _any_ lullabies.” Her face crumpled. “I am going to be a _terrible_ mother.”

“I know plenty!” Katniss hurried in saying. “I can teach you. Don’t cry. _Don’t cry_ , I will teach you.”

“I know some too.” Annie offered quietly. “I can teach you too.”

The girl looked so panicked at the thought she would start bawling her eyes out that Effie made a _huge_ effort to keep collected. The girl needed her to be a rock. She was going through so much as it was, Effie couldn’t add to the pile with her own problems. So, for Katniss’ sake, she pushed all that aside and she forced a smile that was wavering a little. “Thank you.”

Four’s victor slowly stood up. “Do you feel alright? No pain or anything, right?” The young woman bit her lip. “I’m pretty sure we should get a doctor if you’re in pain…”

Annie shot Katniss a distressed look.

“I am fine.” Effie promised although she was far from _that._ But she also needed to take charge here. “No pain. Just…” She licked her lips. “ _Twins_.” But that wasn’t the most urgent concern, was it? She put a hand on either side of her stomach, trying to find the rough spots where the sensor had detected them, and she took a deep breath. “I need to know what is wrong with Haymitch. _Now_.”

Because she _wasn’t_ raising two babies by herself so he was _not_ under _any_ circumstances allowed to die on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you got it because Effie was REAL subtle about it but it seems there are two babies XD Can we really blame Haymitch's heart for giving out from shock? How awesome are our victor kids though? I don't often get to write Annie so hopefully she turned out okay - and thank god for Annie in this chapter haha. What did you think of our little family? How they handled it? How are you handling it? Let me know your thoughts, I'm really curious to hear your reactions about this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Haymitch saw when he opened his eyes was Finnick’s face.

Not quite the sight for sore eyes he would have liked.

The young man’s lips stretched into his usual wolfish grin. “Hi, there, Haymitch.”

“Hi.” he mumbled, wondering why Finnick was hovering above him. And why he felt like he had been run over by a car. Nothing hurt in particular, he just felt… _sore_. “What happened?”

“You had a bad case of a panic attack.” Four’s victor explained, finally leaving his line of sigh.

“You fainted.” Katniss’ voice explained, more prosaically.

He lifted his head a little and found her sitting crossed-legged at the foot of his hospital bed. Hospital bed? Panic attack? Fainting? What the hell…

“I thought you were having a coronary. So did the doctor for a minute.” Effie added.

He turned his head and there she was, sitting in the visitor chair next to the bed, looking exhausted. She hadn’t even bothered with her headscarf, her blond hair was pinned up in a hasty bun.

“Sweetheart…” he breathed out, as memories finally came back to him. “I had the _worst_ nightmare.”

She pursed her lips but it wasn’t a complete pout, which told him she wanted to be annoyed with him but secretly agreed. “I have good news and bad news.”

“Oh, _no way_.” He shook his head. “ _Nope_. It was a _fucking_ nightmare. _Just_ that.”

They were _not_ having two bloody babies. One was bad enough. It had taken him _weeks_ to convince himself they could _maybe_ , with _a_ _lot_ of luck, do it. Two babies? _At the same time_?

“On the bright side…” Katniss snorted. “It’s not triplets. You can take one each. It’s… doable.”

Haymitch glared at her. “What are you _fucking_ doing out of bed?”

“Wanted to make sure you were done _fainting_.” she deadpanned.

“And for how long, too.” Finnick grinned. “We have a bet.”

He rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the two annoying kids. He liked them better when they couldn’t get along.

He also pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the disapproving looks they all shot his way. Apparently it was all fun and game to mock him but they had obviously been really worried – which softened him a little. _Just_ a little.

“Okay. Shoot, princess. Good news?” he prompted.

“Good news is you did _not_ have a heart attack.” Effie stated dryly. “And that I am doing as well as one can be expected when, and this is the bad news, _pregnant with twins_.”

Haymitch closed his eyes. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

“It accounts for the babies being a bit smaller than normal. That and I have narrow hips and a small body. Whatever _that_ means.” she huffed. He felt a bit sorry for Steve if he had gone and criticized her figure. “They are both doing fine though, so that is something.”

“How did something like this happen?” It was a rhetorical question mostly. Finnick snorted and Haymitch opened his eyes again to better glare at the younger man. “Don’t you have a girl to swoon over? And, you…” He switched his glare to Katniss. “Back to your room. Both of you. _Shoo_.”

They did leave, grumbling and muttering between themselves about his lack of humor.

“You should not be so hard on them. They were worried.” Effie rebuked. “We all were.” He sighed and started slipping his legs from under the rough cotton hospital sheets. “What do you _think_ you are _doing_?”

He paused, but only briefly, before swinging his legs out of bed. “I feel fine.”

“I thought you were _dying_.” she snapped. “Let it be _very_ clear you are _not_ leaving this bed until a doctor gives you a clean bill of health, is it understood?”

He sneered. “You’re not the boss of me, Effie.”

“I have two babies inside me that say otherwise.” she retorted.

That brought him short.

He actually forgot to try and stand up.

“ _Fuck_.” he spat, the weight of that tiny bit of info crushing him again. “ _Two_.” 

She breathed out a sigh. “I know.”

“But… _Two_.” he insisted.

“I _know_.” she repeated.

He rubbed his face. “ _Two,_ sweetheart.”

“Are you _quite_ done?” she hissed. “ _I_ did not have the luxury of having a panic attack yet. It would be best not to trigger one now. Two is a lot but now that they are here I would rather not _lose_ one.”

Lose one?

Now, that would be a solution to…

_No_. He didn’t want to lose the baby. _Babies_ – _fuck_ that would get some getting used to. Not now that he had heard… “The heartbeat thing… That was some _fucking_ _shit_ , yeah?”

“Language.” she chided, her hands coming to rest on either side of the baby bump. “Yes… It was…” She licked her lips. “And… They are _healthy_. That’s the main thing, yes?”

Was it?

He guessed.

_Maybe_.

“Two.” he said again, flatly, just to let it sink further. “How the hell are we gonna take care of two?” He ran his hand through his too long hair. “Was just started to get used to the idea of having _one_.”

“We will just have to… We will have to manage, won’t we?” She tried to put some cheer into her voice and failed spectacularly. “At least, money won’t be an issue. I am more than well off.” Her smile faltered. “Assuming the Capitol hasn’t stolen my bank accounts. _Oh dear_ … Do you think they took _my money_?” Her eyes widened. “Did they take _your_ money? Are we… Do we even have _any_ money anymore?”

“Money ain’t everything. They’re gonna be free, that’s better.” he pointed out. “Don’t want our kids growing up with a silver spoon in their mouths anyway.”

“Money will buy us a house and a comfortable life.” she snapped. “Money _is_ important when you do not have it. Or have you forgotten?”

He hadn’t.

But he may have gotten used to having more than enough to get by.

And she wasn’t wrong.

There was a difference between spoiling a kid rotten and making sure they didn’t lack anything.

“I don’t know about the money.” He shook his head. “I’d have to ask Plutarch. No way he risked _his_ fortune so…” He probably had tucked it away somewhere. Maybe he could do the same for Effie’s. “Look, let’s not worry about _that_ for now, yeah? That’s for after the war.”

“When we will be homeless with two infants on our hands and we will have to beg my parents to take us in, you mean?” she deadpanned. She was clearly working herself up. “Assuming, of course, my Mother even _tolerates_ the sight of me after I went off _gallivanting_ with rebels and got myself pregnant _out of wedlock_. Yes, I can see that reunion going _splendidly_.”

“Hey.” He nudged her leg with his bare foot. “Told you I’d make a honest woman out of you.”

She glared at him. “You are _not_ marrying me for the wrong reasons.”

“We’re having _two babies_ at the same time.” he scoffed. “What better reason is there?”

“Oh, let’s see…” she sneered. “Perhaps you being _in love_ with me?” A flash of hurt passed on her face, quickly hidden behind a blank mask. “Although I suppose _that_ is rather out of the question.”

The _l_ word had sent him reeling and he had troubles focusing on the conversation at hands. Babies were bad enough. Now they had to deal with _feelings_ too?

He wasn’t sure he wasn’t about to have another panic attack. Or maybe it would be a real heart attack this time.

“Effie…” he winced.

“I apologize.” she cut him off, dismissing that line of conversation with a flick of her wrist. “I know you are not… I know you _care_ for me. That will have to be enough, it _is_ enough, but I will not marry you just because you accidentally got me pregnant. With _two_ babies. Truly, _way_ to overachieve, Haymitch.”

He forced a smile at her joke, not quite sure how to put right the misconception that he simply _cared_ for her. It was so much _more_ than that. But to put it in words…

“I did that, didn’t I?” he snorted, quite suddenly taken with the idea. He had put two babies inside her. They were _his_ and they were _in_ her and that meant _she_ was _his_ too, that a part of her would be his _forever_ , and that… Well, _shit_ that idea did _things_ to him it probably shouldn’t. “Two babies…”

“Likely two little terrors that will drive us crazy.” she sighed. He lifted his eyebrows in surprised and she waved her hand again. “I have done _a lot_ of thinking while waiting for you to wake up.”

“What have you been thinking?” he asked, leaning forward a little. He didn’t really mean to reach for her stomach but his hand ended up there anyway.

“I am thinking one girl and one boy.” she hummed. “The girl will naturally be an absolute tomboy, to my utter despair, but I will allow her to run around and get dirty as much as she pleases and I will certainly _not_ force her into tea parties and _ballet_ and _ladies_ activities.” A soft smile touched her lips. “Hopefully, she will still like dolls and I will buy her the _biggest_ dollhouse and she will be allowed to play with them until she is as old as she likes.”

That said a lot about how _she_ had been brought up but he was too relieved to hear her say she didn’t want their kids brought up the Capitol way to comment on it. He was sure there would be a lot of manners lessons but he could deal with that. He supposed it wasn’t wrong to want their kids to be polite and have some sense of etiquette – as long it remained _reasonable_.

“What about the boy?” he humored her.

“Oh, the boy will look like you, of course, but he will take after me.” She grinned. “Sweeter temperament, you know.”

“Right.” he chuckled. “Cause you’re _so_ sweet.”

“Why, I _am_. Thank you.” she huffed. “Perhaps Peeta can teach him how to paint. When he is recovered, obviously. And… I cannot decide if he and his sister will be thick as thieves or if they will be like cats and dogs…”

“I like thick as thieves.” he offered. “Siblings should be close. They’re important.”

Her smile wavered and he could have slapped himself because he had forgotten about her sister. She talked about her so rarely…

As far as they knew, her family had been left alone but there was never any guarantee. Her being there in Thirteen alone put them in danger.

“I realized I did not know any lullabies.” she told him. “Annie and Katniss offered to teach me some.”

“I know a couple.” He shrugged, a little ill-at-ease. He imagined himself singing to two small babies propped in the crooks of his elbows and immediately dismissed the thought because it was _terrifying_.

“Oh, _good_. I was hoping you would.” She beamed. “I have been thinking up a list of all the things I can teach them, you know. I felt so lost after they told us… I started thinking I knew nothing about children and I would be a terrible mother…”

He frowned. “You won’t.”

“So I have been making a list of all the things I know how to do and that I could teach them.” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “I can sew, of course. And I sketch well enough. I am not too bad with horses because I took years of riding lessons. I did a little ballet. Modeling, obviously. Hair! I can absolutely teach _anyone_ how to do their hair, boy or girl. _And_ their make-up. I am not too bad at math, either, you know. And…”

“That’s not the important stuff.” he dismissed.

She deflated. “What _is_ the important stuff, then? Because I know you can teach them chess and you can share your love for books with them and…”

“Kindness.” he cut her off. “You can teach our kids to be _kind_. You can teach them how to be _happy_. You can teach them _hope_.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t know the first thing about any of that but you… You’ll make sure they have all that.”

She looked speechless.

She stood up and stepped between his legs, grabbing his head between her hands and tilting it up so she could plant a long kiss on his lips. He deepened it a little, just because he could. He kind of wanted to do more than kissing too because it had been a while – and it wasn’t like it could get worse, he couldn’t plant a _third_ baby inside her now – but it wasn’t the time nor the place and he wasn’t sure it was alright to still do that when she was pregnant with _twins_.

“You will teach them to be brave.” she whispered. “You will teach them family is _everything_. You will teach them how to _always_ find the will to survive. That is very important too and I would not know the first thing about any of it.”

She was brave and she was a survivor too.

However he appreciated the feeling so he kept quiet.

He kissed her again.

And for the shortest of moment, he actually felt they could do this, that they would be alright in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't a heart attack! (I'm not that mean XD) Haymitch is having a difficult day though, isn't he? So is Effie I guess. Can someone get Haymitch a "proposing for dummies" book? Maybe Finnick? XD I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

Being pregnant was overrated.

Effie didn’t know why she had spent so long regretting the fact she would likely never experience it. Now, surrogates? _That_ was the way to go. Her mother had been right all along. Who knew _that_ could happen?

Because being four months pregnant? With twins? That was _not_ funny.

She felt like a balloon full of air that kept swelling. She felt tight inside her skin – and she didn’t even want to think about the marks all this would leave on her body. Her breasts had never been so big – or tender – her stomach was _round_.

People – Haymitch, Finnick, Annie and Plutarch amongst others – kept telling her it wasn’t that big but for her who had never been anything but slim – if you excepted that brief period at thirteen when she had been on the bad size of chubby – it was _terrible_. She looked down and she could see her stomach pointing past her breasts.

If it quacked like a duck and walked like a duck, it was a duck.

There was no other words for it: it was _round_.

And it felt stretched to the max. And yet everyone kept telling her – laughing like it was a good joke – that it would grow bigger. As if she wasn’t already _enormous_. Four months and a half to go, Haymitch muttered to himself every morning when she bit his head off because he wasn’t sympathizing enough with her miserable state.

She was _round_. And _tired_ all the time. And she wanted _strawberries_ but there was no finding them in that forsaken District. And she was so _done_ being pregnant.

Because worse than being four months pregnant with twins? Being four months pregnant with twins _in a war_.

Steve had lightened her workload to simple Mockingjay duties – and with Katniss being in Two for weeks now, that should have meant she had nothing to do but rest. The thing was, though, as exhausted as she felt, there was one thing she wasn’t good at and it was resting. So she had taken upon herself to check on Peeta regularly – which no one was happy with aside for herself and, perhaps, the boy. She had never been allowed in a room with him. Haymitch had put his foot down, arguing that the kid had tried to attack _him_ twice and what would they do if he jumped on her and her pregnant belly? Since it was sort of sensible, she had agreed to limit her visits to the observation deck of his room. She still could talk to him. He often talked back. He was confused and angry. She could understand both but he was also making some progress, controlling himself more…

No, Peeta was not the one she was the most worried about.

The thing was, she was really _really_ angry with Haymitch for allowing Katniss to leave for a hot zone. Two wasn’t the most dangerous place in Panem, right then, but it was _bad_.

And that was _before_ they had been talking about taking the Nuts with Gale Hawthorne’s _genius_ plan. Oh, how she disliked that boy…

Haymitch spent the whole night in Command talking to Katniss through her earpiece, keeping her company. Effie wasn’t allowed to stay because _she was supposed to rest_.

As if she _could_ rest when her girl was out there, possibly about to enter a fight.

She spent the whole night tossing and turning, dismissing the brief shots of pain in her lower belly. The pain was nothing. Most likely a baby pressing on something it shouldn’t. She didn’t have time to worry about it when Katniss was in possible danger.

She was back in Command at dawn with a tray of Thirteen’s insipid tea for everyone as an excuse to be allowed back in.

Haymitch shot her an annoyed look but handled her his headphones. “Here. Talk to her. I need to take a piss.”

She wrinkled her nose. “ _Charming_.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped past her, brushing his hand on her stomach as he went. It could have looked like an accident if she hadn’t known better. The rounder she got, the more he stared at the bump with a mix of awe and terror. She was starting to think he had a bit of a pregnancy kink. Not that she had really been able to test that theory because they had barely found time to have sex twice since the twins reveal and he had been so careful and gentle each time… And yet that proud possessive glint would flash in his eyes sometimes when he saw her naked…

“Darling, it is Effie!” she crooned in the mic. “How are you doing?”

Katniss didn’t sound well. She didn’t tell her anything of importance, asking about the babies instead. She told the girl was she wanted to hear. She complained with a lot of theatrics just to make her muffle a chuckle or two, she confessed she was excited about being able to feel the babies soon – or so the oversimplified pregnancy pamphlet she had been handed had promised because she was well into her fourth month and so far she hadn’t felt a thing – and she volunteered a few cautious tidbits about how Peeta was baking again…

By the time Haymitch came back, twenty minutes or so later, Katniss was more than ready for a change in interlocutors. She tried not to be too vexed.

“Have you even slept?” he asked, taking the chair back from her and putting the headphones back on his head. “No, not you, sweetheart. I was talking to Effie. Gimme a sec, yeah?” He pushed the mic down so Katniss wouldn’t hear every word and angled the chair so he could properly look at her. Obviously what he saw didn’t please him. “Come on, sweetheart, you know what the doc said.”

What the doctor had said was that with a multiple pregnancy they would have needed to be careful _even_ without her medical history. _With_ her medical history… Well… She _tried_ to follow instructions. _Mostly_. She ate everything they told her to ate, she rested as much as she could, she didn’t stay on her feet long and she took her vitamins on a precise schedule.

“I feel fine.” she promised.

A slash of pain ripped through her lower belly again, so sudden she couldn’t help a wince – and pressed a hand to the baby bump in reflex.

“Right. You look it too.” Haymitch scoffed, kicking a soldier out of a chair so she could sit down. Command was _packed_. “You’re in pain?”

“Not really.” she sighed. “Just uncomfortable.”

It _was_ nothing.

The pain had been coming and going for a few days. It was irregular and it always went away on its own so she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

And she certainly didn’t want to go to the hospital to have it checked out because…

Well, the pamphlet _said_ she should be able to feel her babies move already. And she wasn’t. Not the tiniest fluttering sensation the leaflet promised. She was well in her fourth month, it should have happened already.

And if it hadn’t, it meant the babies weren’t moving.

And if they weren’t moving, they might be…

Denial was a powerful thing and, while she had never been terribly gifted at lying to herself, she was doing her best right then.

Haymitch wasn’t convinced though.

“Look…” he said slowly. He had this brand new way of addressing her, this brand new tone that was both infuriatingly patient and wary at the same time, as if he was scared she was going to rip his head off if he said the wrong thing. “Nothing’s happening right now.”

“It could happen any second.” she countered.

“When it happens, I’ll send someone to fetch you, okay?” he compromised. She opened her mouth to protest but he leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “ _Please_. You’re stressed and that’s not good for anyone. Not for you, not for the babies, not for me, not for Katniss.”

She pouted, narrowing her eyes at him. “I _hate_ that you became the reasonable one.”

“Don’t remind me.” he sighed. “So, you’re…”

The sudden surge of activity cut him off.

It all happened so fast, in retrospect.

People started streaming out of the Nut’s only entrance. Peacekeepers with guns.

She watched on the screens as Katniss in her Mockingjay uniform went to confront them… It was a pretty speech. Not the one they had agreed on, naturally, because when did the girl ever do what she was told? But it was a nice speech nonetheless.

And for one breathless moment Effie thought it would work.

Then the Peacekeeper pulled the trigger.

And someone screamed.

It was only when most of the faces in Command turned toward her that she realized it was her. She was the one who had screamed. And she couldn’t care less because…

Haymitch was already blaring orders, demanding a status report… They couldn’t see anything on the screens. Katniss was down, that much was sure, but… It was such chaos…

Her ears started ringing and she felt faint, so faint… The pain hit her again, more like regular throbbing now. Her breath was shallow, she reached for the huge briefing table to support herself… She could focus on _nothing_ else but the pain and she clutched her stomach with her free hand, planting her other one firmer on the glass table…

She wasn’t sure how long she remained like that.

Next thing she knew, someone had grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around and Haymitch was talking to her. She blinked hard, forcing herself to focus…

“You heard me? Effie?” he insisted, stopping short of shaking her. “She’s alive. _She’s alive_.”

“Alive…” she repeated and her words seemed to come from so far away.

“Yeah. _Yeah_.” Haymitch was almost chuckling, delirious with relief, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “Hawthorne evacuated her. She’s not bleeding, Cinna’s design protected her… Ribs may be cracked, she ain’t _alright_ , but she’s breathing so… That’s a win.”

Was it a win?

Was it a win to merely count _breathing_ as a victory?

“I feel weird.” she muttered, leaning a little against him. “Something is wrong.”

Haymitch’s relief was short-lived. “What?”

She wasn’t certain what happened next.

Her legs stopped supporting her and she collapsed against him. She was vaguely aware that people called her name – Plutarch and Haymitch amongst them. She heard someone call for a medic and Haymitch snapping at them not to bother…

She was lifted up, carried away…

Cradled close to his chest, it was almost alright.

The pain was bad but it wasn’t as terrible as it had been a moment ago. And yet…

“Am I losing them?” she mumbled.

Haymitch glanced down at her and ran faster.

She closed her eyes.

A part of her had always known it would end up like this. Ever since she had suspected she was pregnant.

Of course, it would end like this…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it end like this? Am I this cruel? How angry is Haymitch going to be when he realizes she's been in pain and not telling him? Poor Effie though... She still doesn't trust this won't end badly so she's trying to protect her heart the only way she can... I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

“Broken ribs… The hovercraft is on its way back… She should be here in a few hours… Close one…”

The words drifted to her sense and Effie’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she didn’t recognize anything around her and she panicked. Grey walls, grey ceiling, grey tiles… Then it came back to her. _Thirteen_. She was in Thirteen.

With a drip in the crook of her elbow, a monitor sensor clipped on her finger and annoying little buds in her nose… The thin tubes hooked behind her ears were the first things she ripped off…

“ _Hey_.” Haymitch growled right before he appeared in her line of sigh. “Don’t even start.” He forced the tubes back behind her ears and the small nubs in her nostrils. “That’s good for you. Clean air not the recycled oxygen shit we’re all breathing.”

Did she need help breathing?

“I will beep you when the hovercraft’s here or if there are any developments. Don’t worry about a thing that’s not her right now.” Plutarch called from the threshold.

Of the hospital room.

The hospital room she was lying in.

The Head Gamemaker shot her a sad smile. “Get well soon, Effie.”

Haymitch didn’t even acknowledge him. How rude.

“How long have you been in pain?” he snarled.

She made a small face. “A while.”

He shook his head at her, wrath like he had _rarely_ directed _at her_ flashing on his face. “And you didn’t _fucking_ think… Oh, I don’t know… That you’d _fucking_ _tell_ someone?” Her lips wobbled, her throat closed and her eyes filled with tears but that didn’t seem to move him. If anything, it made him even angrier. “Oh, _no,_ sweetheart! You _don’t_ get to use the crying card. Not when I spent the last two hours scared _shitless_.”

She took a deep breath – and it was true that the air she was breathing felt cleaner – swallowing the tears back down. “I thought the babies were dead.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I thought the babies were dead.” she repeated, her voice breaking. “I should be able to feel them by now and I am _not_ and…” She bundled her hands into fists. “Are they?” Because he would know. Two hours, he had said. That meant he had been there for the whole thing. If anything had happened, he would know. And the pain and… “Are our babies dead, Haymitch?”

It was at that moment, at that precise moment, that she regretted complaining so much about being pregnant, that she regretted even doubting for a second that it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And the fact that it had been twins? _Miraculous_. And all along she had dragged her feet and hesitated and _lamented_ and…

She really wanted the babies.

She really, _really_ wanted the babies.

“ _Shit_ , _no_.” He sat down on the mattress, next to her hip and cupped her cheek, wiping off her tears with his thumb. “No. _Shit_ , sweetheart…You… You’re scared of something like that, _you_ _tell_ _me_. How long have you been stressing over that all alone?” 

“There were more pressing matters.” she argued.

“There’s nothing more important than our kids for me.” he countered, shaking his head.

“Katniss…” she insisted.

“Katniss will be fine.” he promised. “Bed-ridden again for a while, probably. But, then again, so will you.”

His hand was cradling her face so she gripped his wrist, reassured to feel him so strong and solid under her palm. “The babies…”

“They’re fine.” he whispered, leaning closer so he could rest his forehead against hers. “Very much alive. _I swear._ ”

She closed her eyes and let herself sob off all the stress and fear of the last few days. He sighed and gathered her in his arms as much as he could with the baby bump in the way. Not that she would complain about how big she was. Not ever again. Not even if she grew _truly_ huge.

She wrapped her own arms around it and rested her head on Haymitch’s shoulder. “I want the babies.”

“Good thing ‘cause I don’t think there’s a return policy.” he mocked.

“No…” she protested, resting her hand on his heart and bundling his shirt in her fist. “I _want_ the babies, Haymitch. I love them. _I love them_. Perhaps even more than I love you. And you know I have never loved anyone more than you in my whole life and…”

She realized she was babbling and a part of her was very grateful he cut her off with a kiss. It was a brutal kiss that was probably explained by what she had just blurted out – it was already a small miracle he hadn’t run off yet. He pressed another aggressive peck on her mouth after that one and another one after that. Then he drew back just enough to lick his lips. He was holding her tight, she noticed, almost _too_ tight. And his whole body was tense.

“Back at you.” he finally muttered awkwardly, as if it was physically painful to get those words out.

Stunned, she blinked at him. “You do not have to…”

“ _Back at you_.” he repeated more firmly. “Can’t do better for now. Just… You should know. I…”

“Oh.” It was all so _obvious_ now. He had _tried_ to tell her, hadn’t he? He had had her brought to Thirteen, he had come to her bed every night even when they hadn’t had sex, they had been living together, they had slipped in domesticity and he hadn’t raged or tossed her aside when she had gotten pregnant… He had… _Oh_ … “Haymitch, we can do this.” she declared with sudden clarity. And then she laughed because she felt so more lighter now. “We love each other, we will love the babies… It… It might be difficult sometimes but it will be alright in the end because we will all have each other and…”

“Did they put something in that drip?” he chuckled, helping her lie back down. “Cause you sound high, princess.”

“I am just _happy_.” she retorted, shooting him a chiding look. “Are you _sure_ the babies are alright?”

“Baby A is still smaller than Baby B.” he reported. “Other than that, they’re good.” He made a face. “There’s stuff that ain’t too good though and you won’t like it but the babies are alright, that’s the main thing. Steve’s gonna be around soon. He can explain better.”

As it turned out, she truly did _not_ like what Steve had to say – and she didn’t like how he repeated several times that he _had_ warned her this might happen.

As of right then, she was sentenced to bed rest. The placenta was too low. It wasn’t risky enough that Steve admitted her in the hospital permanently but he also told her that might change eventually. For now, though, she was to lie and rest as much as possible and only leave her bed for bathroom breaks or if the room was on fire.

Effie pouted and protested up until Haymitch snapped at her that it was what their kids needed so she should stop being selfish.

He had a point but she still sulked and refused to talk to him for a few hours after he had brought her back to their compartment and settled her in bed. Of course, she wanted to make sure their babies were alright but she also wanted to see Katniss and Peeta and…

“What am I even supposed to _do_ all day?” she hissed, later that night. He had come back after going to check that Katniss – who was still unconscious – was settled in the hospital room that would soon be named after her if she wasn’t more careful. “There is no TV, all the books in this place are propaganda and I cannot even do my nails! I will _die_ of boredom, Haymitch. _See if I don’t_.”

“Stop being a drama queen and let me sleep.” was the only answer she got.

Finnick and Annie were very good about visiting her, though, and, Finnick being Finnick, she was kept in the loop about all the gossips – starting with the fact Twelve’s refugees were abuzz with the news of her pregnancy and ending with the fact Katniss was awake and Johanna was stealing her morphling.

Three days after she had been sentenced to bed rest – and she _did_ respect that decree even if she was cold and miserable all the time – Haymitch came back one night bearing gifts. He emptied a messenger bag on her feet – which _hurt_ – but she was so happy to see his bounty that she squealed in delight and immediately went digging into the pile.

There were a few colorful fashion magazines – months old but she could have _kissed_ the glossy covers even if some corner were slightly torn – a sketching pad with a pack of colored felt-tip markers, some balled up yarn and slightly bent knitting needles, one of the pink and red smutty romance novels she secretly loved and, the prize of the collection, a half-full bottle of gold nail polish.

“Now you can’t say you’re bored anymore.” he grumbled. 

“How did you manage _that_?” she exclaimed.

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, a little ill-at-ease. “We’ve got access to more Districts now… More refugees… Bit of bartering here and there…” He licked his lips. “The nail polish, it still ain’t regulation so you can only put it on the toes, yeah? And it’s probably best to keep the rest hidden ‘cause… Ain’t sure it doesn’t count as black market. I mean… It ain’t food and Plutarch got the magazines for me so we should be covered but… Better not give _You-know-who_ any rope to hang us with.”

She beamed at him. Her little rebel. “I love you.”

He groaned and awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, well… Would go crazy too if I had to stare at those walls all day without anything to distract me so… _Yeah_.”

“If I was allowed to, I would have my way with you right now.” she declared. But sex was one thing Steve had advised against for the moment. 

He groaned again. “Great. Now you’ve put ideas in my head…” He sighed and nudged the mess aside so he could lie down next to her. She kept looking everything over, smoothing the shiny covers of the magazines, inspecting the book he had gotten her… She thought he had fallen asleep, truth be told, so she startled a little when he spoke again. “Ain’t freaking me out so much anymore.”

“The babies?” She frowned and turned to face him. She was sitting crossed-legged – which was probably a no-no position but she needed some variety and she had been lying down enough for the day.

“Nah, the plural’s still freaking me out.” he snorted. “But… You know… the whole… we’re gonna have little babies soon…” He made a face. “Don’t know why I said that. It’s still _fucking_ scary.”

“Perhaps you grew used to the idea.” she pointed out.

“Yeah…” he granted. “Maybe.

She grinned at him and decided a change of subject might be a good thing. She nudged him. “Do you want to hear a secret?”

“How can you have secrets, you ain’t leaving this room.” he teased, his grey eyes twinkling.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Does that mean you do _not_ want to hear the secret?”

“Spill the gossip, sweetheart.” he mocked.

She was very tempted to keep it to herself just because he was making fun of her. In the end, she just couldn’t stop herself. It was too juicy to keep. “Finnick asked Annie to marry him!”

She almost _squealed_ in delight.

Haymitch’s eyes grew comically wide. “You don’t say?”

It tempered her excitement a lot and she pouted. “You already knew. _How_? He told me _just_ this morning.”

“Cause Plutarch’s a spider and he knows _everything_.” Haymitch snorted. “Also, he wants to make a big propo out of the wedding.”

She frowned. “Are Finnick and Annie aware of that?”

“Not sure.” he sighed. “But at least he stopped badgering me about _our_ wedding going live.”

She did a double take at that. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re pregnant. People assume.” He shrugged. “Most of the people from Twelve think we had a toasting at some point. We _ain’t_ saying we didn’t, by the way. I’ve got a feeling it might come in handy if people around here think you’re my wife…”

“How so?” she asked.

“Don’t know, just…” He clucked his tongue. “With Two behind us, it finally seems like we have a shot at winning this war and I’ve got a feeling when we take the city, it’s gonna turn _messy_. Thirteen’s soldiers are military, they’re gonna fall in line. Other rebels from other Districts… They’re gonna want blood… Look, it’s just… I know it’s _fucking_ irony at its finest coming from me, but it’s better if people think you’re married to a victor right now.” He shot her a look. “Would be even better if you’d just stop being stubborn and say yes.”

“Yes to what? You never actually _asked_ me anything.” she huffed, dismissing that with a wave of her hand. “In any case, Plutarch is _not_ coming anywhere near _our_ wedding.” She pursed her lips. “And he _won’t_ turn the children’s into a TV show set either if I have anything to say about it. Finnick _deserves_ his proper dream wedding.”

“You’re stuck in your bed, what are you gonna do?” he challenged. “Cause I’m telling you right now, I _ain’t_ getting involved in this, not even for you.”

She jutted her chin in the air, a smile creeping on her lips. She _did_ love a challenge.

“Leave it to me, darling.” she hummed. “Leave it to me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we stan Mama!Effie standing up for Finnick? Cause I do XD He's like... their oldest or something haha. So the babies are okay. Effie's on bed rest taking up new challenges... Haymitch is doing his best poor thing... What did you think? Did you enjoy the chapter? Let me know your thoughts!


	11. Chapter 11

Effie had always been outgoing and very talkative but ever since she had been _sentenced_ to bed rest – her formulation – she was worse than usual. She could talk Haymitch’s ear off.

Fortunately for him, he had long developed the skill of tuning her out – although it was harder to do without a bottle. Unfortunately, she was also not letting that fly right then. Every time she noticed his attention wandering, she would whack him or pout until he had no choice but to sigh and apologize.

It _was_ better to apologize nowadays.

Pregnancy had turned her into some sort of hormonal monster.

Anyway, he forced himself to nod and focus as she described for him – again – how great it was to finally feel the fluttering of the babies and how relieved and wonderful and what not. He was just glad the babies had started moving enough that she could feel it and she had stopped worrying they were dead inside her. He was still mad she had believed that for days on end and hadn’t told him.

He couldn’t feel the babies yet even though he had cautiously tried a few times by placing his palms on her round stomach.

Her stomach was impressive now, even more when it was bared. Round and hard to the touch. Two babies took room.

He stared at it as she answered Steve’s questions. The doctor was smearing the sticky gel on it so they could have their second official ultrasound… She was trying to convince the man that she _could_ be released from bed rest but that was not working at all.

Haymitch didn’t know what she was complaining about. She didn’t have to smooth ruffled feathers in Johanna’s wake after the victor stole medical supplies – _drugs –_ left and right, she didn’t have to deal with Katniss’ temper, she didn’t have to see for herself they seemed to have reached a wall in Peeta’s recovery… _And_ she wasn’t bored anymore, at least, since she had somehow wriggled permission from Plutarch to oversee most of the wedding organization from her room.

He listened with half an ear while she managed to get Steve to say she could at least _attend_ the wedding if she didn’t dance, didn’t stay on her feet and promised not to stay too long.

“Alright, are you ready?” Steve finally said, cutting her recriminations short.

She pouted but it soon turned into a grin and Haymitch didn’t protest when she slipped her hand into his. “Yes. Aren’t we, Haymitch?”

He gave a short nod and the doctor flashed him an amused smile. “Let’s try not to have any panic attack today…”

“Don’t give me reasons to have one.” he snapped back, annoyed and a little vexed.

_Twins_. Anyone would have a panic attack at that kind of news.

“Alright.” The doctor cleared his throat. “Before we begin… Do you want to know the genders or…”

“Yes.” They both said at once. Not that they had really discussed it beforehand but he wasn’t taken aback she wanted to know too. They had had enough surprises so far.

Steve grinned at them.

Haymitch wasn’t sure he liked that development. It was much better when the young doctor feared them both. Now he actually seemed to think he and Effie had taken a liking to him – she might have, he still wasn’t sure they shouldn’t get a more experienced doctor.

The sensor touched her stomach on her left side first.

“Here is baby A…” Steve said, watching the screen with attention. He switched a button and the waving sound boomed into the room, quickly followed by a steady regular _thud._ “She’s still a little small but that’s not that unusual with twins.”

“She?” Effie beamed, squeezing Haymitch’s fingers.

Haymitch was feeling faint again but did his best to force a smile. A little girl? A tiny little girl? Oh, but that was _terrifying_ … And yet… He could picture her so perfectly… A small replica of her mother, so beautiful she would break hearts everywhere she went and _he_ would have to break _hands_ to keep boys away from her…

“Everything looks normal…” Steve continued, peering at the screen. “ A perfectly healthy though slightly small baby girl.” He moved the sensor to the other side and while the other baby appeared on screen and they could hear the heartbeat, he wasn’t so quick to say everything was fine there.

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch worried.

Effie bit down on her bottom lip. “Is it serious? Is the baby…”

“The baby is fine, there’s just a strange shadow here…” The doctor pointed at the screen. “For a second I thought…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I have been asking for new ultrasound machines for months. Images are a bit grainy. Baby B looks perfectly healthy.”

“Are you _sure_?” Haymitch growled, glancing at Effie. One word and he would go and fetch someone else. But Effie was enthralled, watching that screen like she wanted to reach through it and gather the baby in her arms.

“Very sure.” Steve assured. “And… Baby B is a boy. Here, look…”

Haymitch couldn’t claim he actually saw what distinguished him as a boy but… A baby boy… One of each… Exactly like Effie wanted… At least, _one_ thing had gone right, then…

Effie tugged on his hand, smiling at him so hard… She looked so happy… He couldn’t help but let go of some of the anxiety and bask in her happiness… It was contagious.

“I’m gonna protect those babies with my life, sweetheart…” he whispered. “You know that, yeah? Nobody’s gonna touch them. Over my dead body.”

“Yours _and_ mine.” she vowed, clinging to his fingers.

It was an intense exchange and, to them, it meant _a lot_ but from the external point of view of the doctor – who couldn’t hope to understand what they had both gone through in their lives – it probably just looked sad and overdramatic. Steve looked at them, glanced at the closed door and then cleared his throat. “Look, I’m not supposed to do that but… Do you want me to print images of the ultrasound? One of each baby?”

The waste of paper was frowned upon in Thirteen and Haymitch was pretty sure using glossy paper for something as shallow as a picture of their unborn children would be considered a waste. They had enough incriminating objects hidden in their compartment as it was, what with the sketchpad and the nail polish, but…

“I would not want you to get in trouble…” Effie hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip again.

Haymitch had to suppress the urge to free it from her teeth. She would make it bleed.

“Don’t tell anyone and maybe don’t tap them to the wall.” Steve joked with a wink. “It will only take a minute.”

True to his word, they were soon on their way back to their compartment with the pictures safely in Haymitch’s shirt’s pocket. He tried to get Effie to lean on him so she wouldn’t exhaust herself but she was brimming with energy and he actually had to quicken his pace to keep pace.

“We need names!” she declared. “We _cannot_ keep calling them Baby A and Baby B.”

“Dunno.” he snorted. “It’s got a ring to it.”

He was treated to a glare but that didn’t last long because she was soon beaming again, almost bouncing with every step. “Won’t it be great to have one of each?”

“Just great.” he humored her. He was surprised it didn’t come out as sarcastic as he had meant it.

Two babies were too much but they were already there now so… And one boy, one girl _was_ great. Better than two boys or two girls… Right? He was still a little shocked but he was also… He realized he was tentatively happy about this.

Which was dangerous.

Wasn’t it?

When he let himself _love_ people… But they were his children. He didn’t have a choice to love them or not. They were his flesh and blood and, frankly, he was already half in love with the idea of them he had constructed in his mind. He was terrified sick, yes, but also… A part of him saw Effie heavy with their children and was satisfied about it in a very primitive way. He watched her get excited and he was content because… She would be the _best_ mother. He would never have considered doing this with _anyone_ else. She would be the best mother and he wanted in on that… He would suck as a dad, probably, he was also scared he would _fuck_ up their kids but… She would never let him do anything bad… She would never let him near them if he ever went back to the bottle or…

Not that he would.

That wasn’t an option.

He had hated Thirteen for forcing him into sobriety at the time – and he still resented the way they had done it – but now he was grateful for it. Because…

He blinked when he realized they were already back at their compartment, having completely lost himself in his own thoughts. Effie was still happily babbling to herself, unaware that he hadn’t heard one word of what she had said.

“So, what do you say?” she turned around and grinned at him while he slowly slid the door close behind them.

Well… It had probably been too much to hope she wouldn’t figure out he hadn’t been listening. 

“I say… Maybe?” he hesitated.

“Really?” she beamed, a touch incredulous. “You like those names?”

What names? Oh, _shit_ , what had he just said _maybe_ to?

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water and she huffed, lips pursed, and jutted an accusative finger in his chest.

“I knew it!” she scolded. “You haven’t heard _a word_ I said.”

He made a face and swatted her finger aside because her poking his ribs was starting to hurt. “To be fair, you spit out a lot of words very fast.” She rolled her eyes and was about to retort something sharp when he kissed her. It was a soft kiss like they rarely exchanged, feather-light. The occasion called for it though, he mused. “One girl. One boy.”

“ _Yes_.” She laughed, battling her eyelashes very fast. He felt the flutter of them against his cheek. “One girl, one boy…” Her smile faltered. “I hope it is not a bad omen… With the tributes, you know…”

“ _Don’t_.” he cut her off before she could start torturing herself with thoughts _he_ would probably be revisiting later. “They’re untainted by this _shit_. They’re brand new. And we’re gonna win this war so they’re never gonna be in danger of _that_.”

“True…” she hummed, stealing another soft kiss. “Our babies. Our girl… Our boy…”

“That you wanna call…” he prompted, slowly steering her back toward the bed because she had been on her feet far too long as it was and the trek to the hospital had probably tired her.

“Aglae and Balinor.” she proudly answered.

He let that sink for a moment and then snorted. “Yeah, no, scratch that _maybe_ , it’s a definite _no_.”

She sighed but it didn’t even sound _that_ irritated. “It will take forever for us to agree on names, won’t it?”

Truth be told, it probably _would_.

But, hey…

He had promised he would protect those kids, surely that included protecting them from their mama’s bad tastes in names…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo what are we thinking? Should we keep Steve or get another doctor? XD One boy, one girl... Little Aglae and little Balinor... :p Haymitch is getting excited isn't he? Let me know your thoughts!


	12. Chapter 12

“Parterpogos.” Effie said and Haymitch shot her an incredulous look.

“Do you _hate_ our boy?” he asked, faking a serious expression, and narrowly avoided the aggressive whack she tried to give his arm. She was so big nowadays compared to her usual size, it wasn’t hard to duck or avoid her attempts at hitting him. All joke asides though, he let his face grow serious for real. “Let’s find our seats. And…”

“Haymitch, I know where _all_ the cameras in this room are and where they are pointing at. I will keep to the blind spots.” she cut him off, wrapping her arms around his elbow and steering him toward their assigned chairs – at the back of the dining hall, well away from all the cameras Cressida was masterfully orchestrating from backstage. “ _Relax_. Today is supposed to be fun.”

“Unless someone doesn’t obey your instructions, then there’s gonna be murder.” he muttered.

She pursed her lips and shot him a sour look but didn’t comment. She had done _her absolute best_ to make Finnick and Annie’s wedding _perfect_ and she had managed it from her bed, often overruling Plutarch’s flashy – but sometimes tasteless – decisions. It was impressive, what she had managed, he would give her that. And from what he could see, she had done a good job for something organized through intermediaries. The dining hall was decked with plants, there was a choir standing ready on the side, and she had somehow managed to get an archway that was covered in white flowers…

He knew Katniss and Annie had gone back to Twelve to get some dresses – and he knew Katniss had been under strict instructions to bring something back for Effie. He wasn’t sure it had meant _three_ different dresses but since she – _predictably_ even though she _had_ tried – had failed to fit in any of them, she had spent days sewing herself a patchwork of a dress that would accommodate her stomach. It wasn’t _that_ bad. A bit too flashy and Capitol-y for his tastes. She would stand out like a sore thumb in the middle of all the grey uniforms and they were trying to remain _discreet_.

But discretion had never been Effie Trinket’s _forte_.

The chairs she had selected were out of the way though so, at least, there was that. They took their places and he pretended he didn’t notice the relief on her face once she was off her feet. He refrained from asking if she was feeling alright because he didn’t want her to hit him again. She tired easily but, he supposed that was what you got when you were almost six months pregnant. And so big. It was weird to think there were still more than three months to go because she looked ready to pop. She was such a small thing… The round belly was…

“Stop fretting.” She clucked her tongue. “Cressida knows not to film me.”

“Good.” he grumbled.

He didn’t know if her pregnancy had leaked or not. In theory, they were sure there was no spy amongst them but Plutarch, Coin and himself were too cynical to trust that at face value. Thirteen welcomed a lot of refugees lately and they couldn’t check everyone’s background anymore. If Snow didn’t already know Effie was pregnant with his children, he didn’t want to be the one to tell him by showing her off on TV.

“Gilberta.” Effie answered.

Haymitch made a face. “Nope.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are saying _no_ a lot but you are not actually suggesting _anything_.”

That was mostly true but, he mused, she must have been enjoying the name game as much as he was because she insisted on putting on the table the worst possible choices ever. _Gilberta_ , seriously.

He shrugged. “We have time yet.”

“Darling, you and me agreeing on something will take _forever_.” she deadpanned. “We do _not_ , in fact, have time.”

Fortunately for him, he was saved from having to answer by the groom’s entrance, quickly followed by the bride. Annie looked really pretty in her green gown.

It was a moving ceremony, really. He had lost any interest in marriage a long time ago but he couldn’t help but admit a small tinge of… It wasn’t _envy_ , really, but… He missed being that young and idealistic maybe, believing marriage was important, _wanting_ to _commit_ to sharing his life with someone because he was certain that…

Effie sniffed next to him, patting under her eyes with her handkerchief. He couldn’t help a smirk and she quietly huffed. “It is hormonal. No need to make fun of me for being a sentimental fool.”

It _wasn’t_ hormonal, he didn’t buy it, but he didn’t say anything, overcome by a wave of fondness for this ridiculous woman he… he _loved_.

It was difficult to admit, even to himself.

Difficult in _so many_ ways.

Remaining alone, keeping people away – emotionally as well as physically – had been his way of protecting himself and others since his Games. He couldn’t stop thinking that admitting he had feelings for her, even if it was only to himself, was dangerous.

Of course, it couldn’t get much more dangerous than her being pregnant with his babies so…

When Finnick and Annie finally said _I do_ , he was watching her and not the kids. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her, the small genuine smile that curved her lips, the soft look on her face… When she finally turned her head toward him, the smile morphed into a delighted grin but the tenderness in her eyes remained.

_Fuck_ , but he _did_ love her. 

“Marry me.”

Surprise flashed on her face, quickly covered by amusement. “ _That_ is an order, _not_ a question.”

He smirked as everyone started clapping. He did, too, a beat too late but entirely missed the newlyweds’ first kiss as husband and wife. “Yeah.”

“Ruffian.” she accused. “And _why_ should I marry you?”

Her hands fell on either side of her belly as if she was readying herself for another argument about her pregnancy.

He shrugged. “Cause I wanna raise my babies with you and maybe some geese and a dog. Cause I wanna grow old with you. Cause, in twenty-five years, you’re the only person who ever made me feel anything else than dead inside.”

That was admitting too much and he clamped his mouth shut, suddenly ill-at-ease.

Around them, people were standing up. They would start pushing the chairs aside to make room for the dancing soon.

They didn’t move.

They stared at each other.

Effie was fighting hard to bat away some tears. “You had me at growing old together, just for the record.”

“Yeah, well…” He snorted and gently rubbed his hand on her stomach. “Seems like I’m a bit of an overachiever lately.”

She covered his hand with hers, guiding it a little to the side. She was probably feeling one of the babies move but he still couldn’t feel anything.

“Two babies are a lot of work to get a puppy on top of it.” she pointed out. “And geese are dirty birds.”

“Hayden wanted to raise geese.” he said quietly. The mention of his brother was painful but not as much as it used to be. His name was less of a stab in the heart. He wasn’t even sure when he had last uttered it out loud.

She pursed her lips but he could see the exact moment she relented. “Fine. Dirty birds, it is. But in a _pen_ , Haymitch. At the _very_ back of the yard.”

“Yeah?” He looked up at her with a smile that, for the first time in a long time, reached his eyes. “What about the puppy?”

“Pick your battles.” she advised but she was fighting a smile of her own and he just knew if he dropped a puppy on her lap one day, she wouldn’t say no. And, suddenly, life didn’t seem that dreadful or scary because he could _see_ it. The two of them in a nice house with a big yard for the kids – biological and adopted alike, cause he wanted Katniss and Peeta in that house – and pets… They would argue from dawn to dusk and be happy and it would be _glorious_.

It was too much to hope for and he wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would actually play out this way – because some disaster was bound to strike soon but… _Fuck_ , he _wanted_ to _hope_. And, if anything, he could work toward it. Get them as close to that dream as he could achieve.

His hand was still on her stomach and she gently stroke the back of it with her thumb. “Would you like to call him Hayden? Our baby boy? It is a nice name. I like it.”

She was a bit tentative and for good reasons. He couldn’t repress a flinch and he was already shaking his head before he even processed her offer. “Can’t. Too painful. No dead people’s names, yeah? I know it’s a tribute and all… I _get_ that but I don’t like it. The babies are their own people, I don’t wanna…”

“Alright.” she said immediately. “ _Of course_. I did not mean to upset you.”

“Ain’t upset.” He winced a little. “It’s nice of you, I mean, but… No dead people’s names, princess, yeah?”

“Yes.” She forced some cheer in her voice as well as a smile on her face. “Brand new pretty names. Like Agrippa.”

He scoffed. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t all gone but the soothing way she was stroking his hand was helping him relax a little. That and the return of the awful name game. “Agrippa’s a ninety year-old granny.”

She didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Well, since you do not get born old, I imagine that before she became a ninety year-old grandmother, Agrippa led a full life. It is a perfectly respectable name.” 

“Euphemia’s a perfectly respectable name, ain’t it?” he taunted. “Remind me why you go by Effie again?”

She pursed her lips. “You know very well…”

“So Katniss _wasn’t_ lying. You _did_ knock the _bitch_ up.”

They both looked up in alarm. They had been so caught up in their private drama that they had missed the fact most people were now up and mingling, the band was tuning their instruments and most of the chairs were lining the walls. They were in a corner so it didn’t really matter but, most importantly, they had missed the approach of the very rattled up victor now looming in front of them.

Haymitch’s hand clenched on Effie’s stomach.

“Don’t pick a fight you’re in no state to win, Jo.” he growled.

The young woman’s eyes were sunk in and there were dark bags underneath them. The peach fuzz on her head, her jutting cheekbones and the baggy grey uniform only made her look more tired and diminished.

Still, it was good to see her up and about even though he wasn’t entirely certain he approved of her influence on Katniss.

“A fight against you is no fight at all, old man.” Johanna sneered.

“Do not threaten each other on my account.” Effie cut in with a sigh. “Johanna dear, it is good to see you recovered.”

Seven’s victor’s sneer deepened.

“Jo.” Haymitch insisted, sounding more exhausted than he had meant.

He didn’t want to fight, really, and not about _this_. He knew Johanna and Effie were like cats and dogs, he understood where Seven’s victor was coming from, but…

“She’s my wife or as close to it as we’re gonna get for now and she’s pregnant with my babies.” he said, lowering his voice. “We’re a package deal now.”

Johanna glared at him and he glared right back, albeit without much heat. The girl had been through too much for him to be _really_ angry about her calling Effie names. Still, he couldn’t tolerate it. It was opening the door to a lot of behavior from other people that could possibly endanger her and the children later on. If she hadn’t been pregnant, he would have let her defend herself, she was more than capable, but now… It was different. _Everything_ was different.

Eventually, Jo must have decided she wanted to keep him as a friend more than she hated his escort.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Johanna grumbled and then stormed away to join Katniss.

“Why…” Effie hummed. “From her that was _almost_ a _heartfelt_ congratulation.”

He nudged her with his elbow to shut her up and then helped her back to her feet. “I’m gonna check on Peeta real quick.”

“Oh, I wish I could see the cake…” Effie cooed before wincing. “I will go congratulate Finnick and Annie and then leave the wedding in Plutarch’s capable hands though, I think.”

“You mean now that he can’t ruin it.” he teased.

“ _Exactly_.” She snorted.

He smirked, watching her with fondness. “You feel tired?”

“A little.” she admitted – which probably meant she was _really_ tired. “And I am _suffocating_ in this dress. I want to get naked.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re never gonna hear an objection from me about _that_ …” 

She rolled her eyes but shot him a flirtatious look. “If only we could, darling.”

He couldn’t help a snort. “You realize we got in this situation cause we couldn’t stop ourselves from getting some, yeah? There’s irony there, somewhere.” She grinned but didn’t reply. He could see she was a little ill-at-ease though and he didn’t want to delay her from getting the rest she needed. “I’m gonna sneak you some cake later.”

Alarm flashed on her face. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

“It’s a special day.” he argued. “And you’re _very_ pregnant. The cake’s chocolate.”

“Oh…” It was almost a moan and that sound shot straight down to his groin.

He cleared his throat.

She winked at him before heading toward the children.

_The minx_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you enjoy this wedding? Did Haymitch FINALLY nail a proposal? Will Johanna eventually come around? Will Effie get her cake? Let me know your thoughts!


	13. Chapter 13

Bed rest was all well and good but there was a huge flaw in the plan nobody had accounted for, Effie mused.

What if she actually _needed help_ in the middle of the day?

She forced herself to keep her breathing regular, deep breaths in and deep breaths out like she had seen it done in countless TV shows and movies over the years – she had tried to see if they had prenatal classes in this place but, unsurprisingly, it was deemed too recreational to be useful to Thirteen, thus she had to rely on what scarce knowledge she had about pregnancy. When the pain hit again, sharp and strong enough to tear a groan from her throat, she started thinking up of options _fast_.

She was in the middle of her sixth month, pain at this stage wasn’t good. And, more than that, she _felt_ something was wrong. The babies were very agitated and…

In frustration, she tossed the glossy magazine she had read a hundred times already at the other end of the sleeping area and checked the clock for the thousandth time. However, time hadn’t suddenly fastened in the last five minutes since she had done that.

A nurse brought her a tray of food at every meal time but dinner was hours away yet. With Katniss, Finnick and Johanna in soldier training – something she didn’t approve of – Prim enrolled in the medic unit, she didn’t expect anyone to visit. Annie had been by that morning already, like she was every day.

There would be no providential help from outside _ergo_ she needed to alert someone somehow.

Which meant she needed to get to the door.

To the sliding door that could as well have been miles away.

She rubbed her pregnant stomach and focused on her breathing, trying to soothe the babies the best she could. Was it her fault? She was bored, had been for weeks after the wedding, and being bored stressed her out. She wasn’t meant to be idle, she didn’t know how to do that. It made her anxious. She fretted about everything and anything…

She had at least ten lists of things they urgently needed for the babies that she wouldn’t be able to find in this place, starting with cute sturdy cribs and ending with actual _names_. Her due date was less than three months away. There was _so much_ to do and yet, there she was, stuck to her bed, deep under the earth and…

Another sharp shot of pain took her unaware and she groaned long and hard, clutching her stomach.

No… It definitely _wasn’t_ normal.

Summoning her courage, she slowly put her socked-clad feet on the floor – she wouldn’t bother with boots, her stomach was in the way, she couldn’t bend that far – and used the frame of the bed to haul herself up to a standing position. She wobbled a little once she was up, fighting a dizzying spell. Funny, her head hadn’t been spinning while she had been sitting down.

That only stressed her more, though. Something was _definitely_ wrong.

At least she could feel the babies. That _had_ to be good. That had to mean they were alright. They were kicking.

She took one careful step and then another one, keeping a hold on the blocky furniture until she could reach the open partition door to the living area. She hugged the wall, blinking hard to chase the spots dancing in front of her eyes, gritting her teeth because being on her feet made the pain a thousand times worse it seemed, and aimed for the table. Once she would be leaning on the table, she could use the chair like a cane of sort and reach the sliding door… Surely someone had to be around in the corridors even if it was supposedly too early in the day for people to be in the living areas of the District. There would _surely_ be a patrolling soldier, at the very least.

Yes, that was a plan.

She aimed for the table.

And missed.

The pain bent her in half and her hand didn’t meet the metal surface like she expected. She crashed hard to her knees, the breath driven out of her lungs by the shock, her hands slamming hard into the ground in reflex.

She immediately took stock.

Her stomach hadn’t hit anything. Her shins, knees and palms smarted but that was to be expected.

Her heart was racing though and she had to fight tears because she truly was frightened now. She was already on hands and knees so she tried to crawl to the door but the position was _terrible_. It felt like her pregnant stomach would fall off her body – which was ridiculous, of course, but gravity did nothing for the throbbing pain in her midsection – and she soon slid to her bottom and curled up against the leg of the table, coiling an arm around the metal pole to hold herself up and wrapping the other one around her stomach.

She would rest, she decided, she would rest a few minutes and try again.

The next stab of pain was so strong she closed her eyes and, even though she breathed out through her mouth, it ended up sounding like a whimper.

Was that a contraction?

Was she having contractions?

It was far too soon.

_Far too soon_.

Her water hadn’t broken, though, so… There was that.

She leaned her forehead against the metal leg of the table, seeking the cold, letting it soothe her burning skin. It _felt_ like it was _burning_.

She wasn’t sure how long she remained like that. Sometimes, she switched her forehead to another spot on the pole so she could still get the cold sensation. She kept her eyes closed and kept her breathing regular and silently begged her babies not to do this to her, not now that both she and Haymitch were on board and cautiously excited, not now that they had started making plans for the future… If she was in labor… It was too early and the twins wouldn’t make it. And then…

The pain started to dull after a while and, eventually, it stopped altogether. She still braced herself for it but there was no more stabbing sensations in her lower belly. She stopped breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth but she didn’t try to stand up again or crawl anywhere. She wasn’t sure her legs would support her and she wasn’t certain moving wouldn’t trigger the whole process again.

Her eyes were still closed and she startled when she heard the door sliding open without a knock.

Haymitch froze on the threshold, watching her with wide eyes. “The _fuck_ you’re doing on the floor?”

“What does it look like?” she snapped. “I am having a party by myself.”

He blinked, his eyebrows shooting up and, then, so fast she couldn’t really process it, he was crouching next to her. “Did you fall?”

“What do you think?” she hissed.

“I think if you tell me what’s wrong, I can help. But, please, sweetheart, keep biting my head off if it makes you feel better.” he deadpanned, not even in a mean way.

She _had_ been snappish with him of late, hadn’t she? She forced him to shower before he came to bed too, just because he smelt so strongly lately… Well… It was the pregnancy, apparently, but her sense of smell was acute and he didn’t smell _good_ after a whole day sweating in Command. It made her nauseous.

Even right then she could smell the faint tinge of cold sweat and…

She closed her eyes and groaned. There was more urgent than the smell of him upsetting her stomach. “I was in a lot of pain. I was trying to alert someone when I felt dizzy and… I fell but not on my stomach so the babies _have_ to be alright.”

He was back on his feet in a flash. “I’ll call a medic unit.”

“Tell them to bring a gurney.” she said reluctantly because she hated the thought of being paraded around the District on a rolling gurney but… There was no realistic way she was _walking_ to the hospital.

“Don’t move.” he ordered, as if she was about to bolt to her feet and run to the door – wouldn’t she have already done it if she had been able to, didn’t he think? He was gone and back in less than two minutes. He sat down on the floor with her, wrapping his arms around her. “How long have you been in pain?”

She leaned against him, doing her best to breathe through her mouth so the nausea wouldn’t kick in. It wasn’t nice to say he didn’t smell appealing to her anymore – and she _truly_ hoped that it would go away soon – but when he smelt like that she really couldn’t bear it. Which was funny because she had never minded the smell of his sweat before. If anything, it had turned her on because it hinted at pleasure and…

“Last night? I am not sure.” she muttered.

“ _Last_ _night_?” he scoffed. “Why didn’t you…”

“I thought it was heartburns.” she cut him off before he could berate her for not sharing every of her little problems. Never mind _humiliating_ ones like that. “It was uncomfortable but nothing this… _dire_.”

His hand wandered to her stomach but he snatched it away immediately, eyes comically wide. “Holy _fucking_ _shit_!”

“Language.” she snarled. “What is it? Oh, did you feel this?”

Despite the worry and the discomfort, she felt a flash of excitement. Haymitch gently placed his hand back down, following the sharp brief rounds of pain inside her stomach. _That_ pain, she could bear, it was just the babies kicking.

“ _Fucking shit_ …” he whispered again and then laughed. “Effie… Effie, I can _feel_ them…”

“No wonder.” she hissed, rubbing the left side of her stomach where most of the kicking was coming from before guiding his hand to the right spot. “Our boy is having a _bloody_ party in my uterus.”

“Now, sweetheart… Don’t curse in front of the babies.” Haymitch mocked. She drew her head back to snap at him but he stole a kiss before she could say anything. He still looked worried despite the wonder on his face. “Still in pain?”

“It stopped a little before you came in.” she offered. “It felt like tearing though. I thought… I thought I was having contractions.”

“Contractions?” He made a face. “Not good.”

“You don’t say.” she scowled.

Fortunately for him, a medic team appeared on the threshold, knocking on the open door.

They barely checked her out. Once she had described the pain and told them she was expecting twins – not that she really needed to tell them because _the whole District_ knew Twelve’s victor had knocked up Twelve’s escort – they whisked her off to the hospital. Haymitch held her hand all the way there and glared at anyone who gawked, which was nice.

He also helped her into one of those scratchy hospital gowns and remained with her while a nurse took some blood and checked her blood pressure and her vitals. He looked a little lost so she asked him to rub her shoulders while they waited for the doctor to show up. Her back was killing her – it killed her often and he was very good as working the kinks off.

She was a little more relaxed when Steve finally arrived, in a grey uniform instead of his doctor blouse – which told her he had been off duty – a little out of breath.

“Sorry.” the young doctor offered, snatching two disposable gloves from a box at the entrance of the room and slipping them on. “I came as soon as they beeped me. What seems to be the problem?”

She described what had happened for the third time, not really surprised when Steve’s expression shifted from concerned to serious.

“No blood loss?” was the first question he asked. “Not even spotting?”

She shook her head. “I do not think so. The babies are very active.”

“I felt them.” Haymitch added as if it was an actual _helpful_ information. He still seemed awed by that experience though so she swallowed back the retort that burned her lips.

“I will have a quick check, then we’ll do an ultrasound just to be on the safe side, alright?” the doctor explained.

Haymitch, intent on being difficult, refused to step out of the room while Steve examined her. She made him remain by her head and, with the sheet tented over her knees, he couldn’t really see anything but still. It was a little bit humiliating to have him there for this.

He didn’t seem to find it in any way odd though, he was too busy touching her stomach every time he could get away with it, trying to feel the babies again. In the end, she sighed, grabbed his hand, slapped it on her left side and let him have his fun.

“You are dilated and the babies are too low for my liking.” Steve eventually declared. “I’m not exactly happy with that tearing sensation you described either. I am keeping you in the hospital regardless of what the ultrasound will show.”

“Not _permanently_?!” Effie squeaked.

She might complain about being stuck in her bed in their compartment but at least it was as homey as they had been able to make it and there was Haymitch to cuddle with at nights and…

“We always knew complications were likely. It is safer for you and the babies to be here where we can monitor you for now. In multiple pregnancy cases, giving birth before term is common but it is far too soon for that now. We want you to go as far as possible.” the doctor reminded her, not unkindly. “I’ll go get the ultrasound machine.”

Haymitch averted his eyes when she tried to shoot him a pleading look. He dragged a visitor chair all the way from the wall to the bed and then grabbed her hand, gently stroking the top of it.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she snapped.

“What do you want me to say?” he sighed. “I ain’t a doctor, sweetheart. I don’t know _shit_ about babies. If he says it’s better for you to be here…”

“You are just glad you will be rid of me!” she accused – very unfairly, she was aware. “You won’t have to shower before bed anymore and you won’t have to listen to me complain and…”

“Like I’m not gonna spend my nights here with you.” he scoffed. “Come on, Effie, you know me better than that.”

That made her shut up because she _did_ know him better than that and there was actually no way he wouldn’t visit her every day and, most likely, either squeeze in bed with her – not easily doable given the size of her – or sleep on that very uncomfortable chair. And all that despite the fact he spent most of his time in Command, had very little free time that he didn’t devote to her or the children, and didn’t rest enough as it was. Suddenly, she felt all the anger rush out of her, leaving her drained and tired and on the verge of shedding tears of guilt.

“It’s alright.” Haymitch said, sounding just as exhausted as she felt. “Pregnant you is an even bigger _bitch_ than the normal model. I’ve gotten used to it.”

She pouted but sniffed, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “I _am_ being a _bitch_ to you lately. I am sorry.”

He waved that aside, his lips tugging up at the corners. “You’re being very vulgar today, princess…”

The attempt at banter was welcome but she was too worried about the babies to really play along. “Do you still want to marry me even if I am behaving like a witch?”

“See if I don’t.” he snorted, leaning in to peck her mouth.

She licked her lips when he drew back, searching his eyes. “Tell me everything will be fine.”

“Everything will be fine.” he promised without hesitation. It was such a blatant lie. The children were training _for war_ and the fights would soon move to the Capitol – it was a matter of days now – they would send her victors away from her and… Peeta was doing better but not yet great. Any of them could get killed any minute. And now, on top of all that, her _unborn babies_ were… “Effie, look at me.” Haymitch said, more firmly. “Everything will be _fine_. I’m gonna _make_ it fine. I swear.”

It was a huge promise to make, one he didn’t think he could keep, that was obvious, but he was willing to make it because it was what she needed to hear right then and that meant a lot to her regardless. She knew him, too, he _would_ try his best to make it right.

The intense moment was shattered by Steve clunking that machine into the room, grumbling under his breath about wheels that were stuck in one direction and how impractical they were. Truth be told, those ultrasound machines _did_ look impractical. The ones in the city looked much sleeker and were a lot smaller. Those looked decades old to her.

“Alright.” Steve said. “You know the drill by now. It’s going to feel cold…” The warning was unnecessary, she was already bracing for the cold gel he smeared on her stomach – and she tried not to be insulted by the quantity he was forced to use given the size of her belly.

“Is it normal for me to be so big?” she complained before she could check herself.

Haymitch kept telling her in an exasperated tone that she was expecting _twins_ every time she made a remark about her size as if it explained everything but… _Still_. It wasn’t like she was at liberty to have all the snacks she wanted – or _craved_. Her diet was carefully balanced. She didn’t understand how she had gained _that much_ weight.

“You are above the weight range I estimated.” Steve admitted. She shot Haymitch a triumphant look. “But, you know, pregnancies are always unique and… Oh, _fuck_.”

The curse came just as the image appeared on the screen and Effie strained her neck to see better, alarmed. “What is it?”

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asked at the same time, shooting to his feet. “Are the babies okay? Is _she_ okay?”

Steve ran a hand in his hair, gloves and all, wide eyes, staring at the screen as if he couldn’t believe it.

“She’s fine. They’re fine. All the babies are fine. Too low, so it _will_ be strict bed rest in the hospital, like I told you, but they’re fine.” the doctor promised after a second. He cleared his throat. “They’re very, _very_ fine.”

Effie narrowed her eyes at him. “If everything is so fine why do you look so shifty?”

“Yeah… You’re all white.” Haymitch frowned. His body suddenly went rigid. “Are you _lying_ to us? She ain’t okay, is she? You’ve seen something…”

“I am _not_ lying.” Steve denied, turning back to them, wincing. “You are fine, Effie, and the babies are fine, which is the thing we should _all_ focus on right now. They’re fine. But there _is_ something I need to tell you and it might come as a shock. Haymitch, you should sit back down…”

But Haymitch didn’t sit down, he peered closer at the screen, going very white himself. “Wait a minute… Is that… I’m _fucking_ seeing that wrong, right? _Right_?” He shot Steve a pleading look and, when Steve only winced further, Twelve’s victor flopped back down on his chair and went mute.

He went _mute_.

He didn’t say a thing. His eyes were open but unseeing.

Effie blinked, glancing from him to Steve to the screen she couldn’t see really well…

“What is going on?” she panicked. “You _have_ to tell me! I… _The babies_ …”

“The babies are fine.” Steve repeated for the third time, squeezing her leg in reassurance. And then he went back to wincing. “All three of them.”

At first, the words made no sense.

And when they finally _made_ sense, they were so _ridiculous_ that she laughed.

She _laughed_.

What else was there to do?

Then she shook her head. “No, no, no… You are playing a joke on us. Haymitch, he is just making fun of us.”

Haymitch didn’t react at all one way or another.

She might have been concerned if she hadn’t been shaking her head so hard.

Steve clearly was concerned too because he reached for Haymitch, probably intending to check his pulse, but the victor swatted his hand away with a muttered _‘Ain’t having any kind of attack’,_ so the doctor went back to attending her – like it should be.

“You are _joking_.” Effie insisted. “And it is a terrible, _terrible_ joke.”

“I’m sorry.” the doctor offered. “I’m not joking. Here, see…”

He pointed at something on the screen she entirely _refused_ to see.

“What _the hell_ do you mean you are not joking?!” she shouted. “How can there be _three_ babies, there were only _two_ , two months ago!” She grabbed Haymitch’s shoulder and gave it a good shake. It didn’t snap him out of whatever haze he was in but his grey eyes did fix on her. “We need another doctor. This one _clearly_ does not deserve his license if he thinks babies multiply by themselves.”

“Most likely Baby C was hiding behind Baby B all this time…” the doctor explained. “The discomfort you’ve been in lately… It might be because they’ve been rearranging themselves.”

“There is _no_ Baby C.” she snarled. “Baby C does _not_ exist. You _never_ said anything about a third baby. I am _six months pregnant_ how can you have _missed_ a baby _this_ _entire time_? This is _ridiculous_ and you are doing it _wrong_ and _I want a second opinion_!”

She was so out of breath when she was done ranting that the man actually managed to finish his explanation.

“There was an echo with Baby B’s heartbeat and there was a shadow during the last ultrasound.” Steve admitted. “I had a small doubt but…It wasn’t conclusive so I didn’t say anything. I truly didn’t think…”

“ _You truly didn’t think_ …” she parroted, having gotten her wind back. She nudged Haymitch’s arm to get his attention. “Do you hear _that_? _He_ _truly_ _didn’t_ _think_.” She glared at Steve. “Get me another doctor in here _right now_. And make it a doctor over forty.”

“Effie…” Steve winced.

“It is _Miss Trinket_ to you.” she growled. “And I would run before me and my three _fucking_ babies roll out of this _bloody_ bed and strangle you with the sheets if I were you!”

She was being so vulgar her mother would have been horrified but she couldn’t stop herself. She had _never_ been _this_ enraged. _Never_.

Steve must have had some sort of self-preservation because she didn’t need to tell him twice. He fled the room, leaving the ultrasound machine on and everything.

“We are _not_ having three babies.” she declared out loud because Haymitch still had to react in any way. “He is _incompetent_.” Haymitch still didn’t say anything, not even when she wriggled and stretched her arm so she could tug the heavy machine closer. She grabbed the sensor Steve had abandoned and pressed it to her stomach, glaring at the screen… It was all blurry and she wasn’t sure how to find anything… “There are _only_ _two_ babies in there. He probably confused a baby with an organ. Organs shift and squeeze when you are pregnant, you know. I am sure I read about that somewhere. _Here_. Look, I have one.” 

And there was a baby on the screen, although it didn’t look as neat as when Steve used the machine on her. She moved the sensor a little to the left and then…

“What are you doing?” A woman in her fifties strode to the machine and tore the sensor out of her hand.

“I am trying to prove a point.” Effie hissed.

“I am doctor Meland, Doctor Horne’s supervisor, I understand there has been a bit of a… _development_ and you want a second opinion?” the woman offered.

“I want you to tell me I am having twins and then I want you to go and teach _Steve_ the difference between a baby and an organ.” she snapped.

The doctor looked unfazed. She glanced at Haymitch who was still unresponsive and then forced a professional smile that rubbed Effie the wrong way. “Lie back down and we will have a look.”

They _did_ have a look.

They had _a very long_ look.

And Effie was very impatient because the woman moved the sensor around a lot but didn’t actually _talk_ and…

“Doctor Horne is right. You _are_ having triplets.” the doctor said. “ _How_ _wonderful_!”

“Wonderful?” Effie repeated. “ _Wonderful_?”

“Two boys, one girl.” the woman hummed, taping on her tablet, probably updating Effie’s file. “The treatment isn’t usually _that_ effective. Twins are a common enough side effect, I think we had three cases last year, but triplets are rare. If you were a Thirteen citizen, I would commend you for your…”

_Two boys_ … Another boy…

“Get out.” Effie snapped.

“I beg your pardon?” the doctor huffed.

“Get _the_ _hell_ out.” she hissed. “And I want Steve back. He might be incompetent but at least he is not a brainwashed _idiot_ who thinks three babies that have been forced on me thanks to your secret drugs are wonderful.”

The woman tried to say something about her blood pressure but when Effie moved as if to stand up, the doctor was quick to get out of the room – and close the door behind her, which was good. Perfect. _Great_.

_Three babies_.

“Two was too much. Three is _out of the question_.” she told Haymitch. “This is _ridiculous_. Do you realize what it means? We will be _outnumbered_. _Utterly_ outnumbered.” She realized something else and scoffed. “I am _not_ pushing three babies out of my vagina, Haymitch, I am _not_. It will be destroyed and you will never want to play there again. And it will _hurt_. I am _not_ a fan of pain. No, no, _no_ , it is not _at_ _all_ suitable. We are having _two_ babies, like we planned. The third one will just have to… to… _Well_ , he will have to stay in here and wait for his turn. Perhaps next year.”

Elephants were pregnant for _ages_ , why couldn’t she, after all? Surely some drugs had been invented? Or…She would stay pregnant through the force of will. Her mother had always insisted she was entirely too stubborn for her own good, it was as good a time as any to prove her right.

_Gosh_ , her mother…

How was she supposed to tell Elindra Trinket that not only had she been siding with the rebels during the whole war out of choice – _mostly_ – but that she was also pregnant with three babies, out of wedlock, because Twelve’s Quell victor couldn’t keep his hands off her and she off him?

There was no answer forthcoming from Haymitch and she was starting to get really fed up with his goldfish imitation act.

“Aren’t you going to say _anything_?” she snapped. “Did you even _hear_ anything they said? We are having three babies. _Three babies_.” He kept staring. “Haymitch, I love you, I _do_ , I tolerated _a lot_ from you over the years but I swear, _I swear_ , that if you do not say something _right now_ I will never let you touch me again. _Hell_ , I am _not_ inclined to let you touch me ever again, in any case. Three babies. _You put three babies inside me_. You are having a vasectomy as soon as we are back in the Capitol.”

Predictably, _that_ got his attention.

His head barely turned but his eyes were on her now.

“Three babies.” she repeated. “Why are you so calm? Why aren’t you threatening people and breaking things?”

She couldn’t really do any of that in the state she was in but she really, _really_ wanted to, so she needed him to do it _for her_. She wanted to get her hands around Coin’s neck and _strangle her_ – her and anyone who ever had a hand in this fertility program, even though she had _especially_ forbidden Haymitch from doing _just_ that.

When he was the one freaking out and being irrational, that forced her to adopt the role of the responsible mature one. She didn’t like the role reversal one bit.

“I’ve had that sort of nightmares before.” He muttered. “This whole thing… Night terror. I’m probably drunk somewhere, drowning in my puke. Nothing to do but wait to wake up, sweetheart.”

She pursed her lips, twisted on the bed so she was facing him as best as she could and then…

She didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t know what possessed her.

She was freaking out so badly she was frightening even herself.

The slap was fast, loud and given how her hand prickled afterward, it must have hurt _bad_.

Taken by surprised, Haymitch reeled back, knocking the chair he was sitting on off balance and almost falling down with it. He only managed to get to his feet by an ungraceful display of hopping.

“What the _fuck_?!” he spat. “Are you _batshit_ crazy?” 

“I apologize.” She pursed her lips. “But are you awake _now_?”

He glared at her but the glare slowly faded. He picked up the chair and sat down on it again.

She waited for him to get angry but it didn’t come. He just stared at her sticky stomach with a fatalistic expression on his face.

“Well…” he scoffed finally. “When it rains, it pours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say it was the sims XD Never trust the sims XD Anyway, does someone have a chill pill for Effie? It seems she needs a little nap haha. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know your thoughts I can't wait to see what you think about this little development! (yes I promise it's the last surprise baby I don't think they can take any more).


	14. Chapter 14

Haymitch’s ears were still ringing with the shock of it all when he finally hauled himself out of the visitor’s chair. His cheek was still stinging from that mean slap too, even if it had been almost an hour. He rubbed it absentmindedly, tossing the sleeping woman on the bed a last glance before heading out of the hospital room.

He would go back to their compartment to fetch some stuff for her. Once Steve had come crawling back, dutifully repentant – and ducked all the objects Effie had managed to grab and toss at his head before Haymitch pinned her wrists down to the mattress – he had been very clear about the increased risks. Given her medical history, twins had already been complicated but triplets…

There were so many new information swirling in his head, he felt dizzy with it all. She could miscarriage – which, at this point in the pregnancy, would just be awful because they were both attached, reluctantly as that might have happened – she could bleed to death during delivery, early labor was almost certain, a C-section would likely be necessary to deliver at least two of the babies to be on the safe side of things… With her placenta so low, it was likely she would have to stay bed-ridden until the end of her pregnancy, which she would just _love_.

“Haymitch!”

He turned around at the call of his name and found Katniss and Finnick jogging toward him – and Johanna who was trailing after the other two – from the other end of the corridor. He stopped and waited for them to catch up, rubbing his smarting cheek again.

He wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up bruising. Hopefully the beard Effie kept complaining about would hide it. He didn’t think she had meant to hurt him. Hell, he didn’t think she had even meant to _slap_ him in the first place. She had just… He had never seen her _that_ hysterical in thirteen years of working together – and he had seen her loose her cool quite a few numbers of time, he had _delighted_ in making her lose her cool…

“Prim said Effie was in the hospital.” Katniss attacked, as soon as she didn’t have to shout to be heard. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“We asked a nurse but she wouldn’t say anything.” Finnick added. “We had trouble finding you. We were worried.”

“ _They_ were worried.” Johanna grumbled. “I had nothing better to do.”

Haymitch chose to ignore her, just like he chose to ignore the disaster in the making that was her rooming with Katniss. They weren’t the best influence on each other and Finnick might joke about it all he wanted, he was completely certain those two would either make each other better or much, _much_ worse. He was leaning toward much, much worse.

“She’s alright.” he said, meeting Katniss’ grey eyes and avoiding them just as quickly. “She’s gonna have to stay here for a while, though.”

The girl frowned. “Because of the babies?”

He licked his lips, then rubbed his eyes purely to waste time and then he still didn’t have the energy to answer that question. Finnick’s hand fell on his shoulder, comforting and grounding all at once.

“Haymitch? Are you okay?” the young man asked.

“I’m…” But he couldn’t say _I’m fine_ , the lie wouldn’t come out.

“She lost them or something?” Johanna muttered, looking a little less aggressive. He wouldn’t say she looked _sorry,_ really _,_ but she did seem a bit sympathetic. And worried. Probably more about him than Effie.

“No, no…” He shook his head. “Babies are all good.” _All three of them._ “It’s just too risky for her to be in our room alone anymore. She’s… They’re too low or some _shit_. It’s risky.”

So _fucking_ risky.

If he could go back, he would put a padlock around his dick and never bring it anywhere near her while they were in this place. The whole baby thing was terrifying enough, the thought that she might not make it…

_That_ made his heart clench and his fingers prickle but he had _sworn_ to Steve he wouldn’t be having a panic attack _or_ a heart attack if the doctor let him go so… What he really wanted, more than anything, was a break. And a drink. A bottle. A whole distillery. 

But he would have to make do with a pill for his headache and a nap in that uncomfortable chair in Effie’s room. Maybe he’d grab the pillows and the blankets from their room and bring them back. Maybe he could just sleep rough on the floor instead of in that chair…

“Haymitch.” Katniss snapped, irritated.

He blinked at her. She had been asking him a question, he realized, and he hadn’t been listening to a word.

Finnick’s hand was still on his shoulder. It squeezed again.

“Can we see her?” Four’s victor asked. “Cheer her up a little?”

“She’s sedated.” he answered, more bluntly than he had intended.

“Sedated?” Katniss scowled. “Why would they sedate her?”

“We had… We had some news.” he explained and then shook his head. “She was _really_ upset. Frenzy side of upset. Her blood pressure…”

Truth be told, he had been getting a little scared of what she was actually going to do because she had been ranting under her breath about hunting down everyone who was responsible for the fertility program and murdering them in their sleep, so when Steve had asked him permission to sedate her, he had consented – and he was sure she would make him pay for that later on but… 

“You said the babies were okay, why would she get upset?” Katniss insisted with a frustrated sigh. “Why are you being so mysterious?”

“Yeah… What the _fuck’s_ going on?” Jo crossed her arms in front of her chest in an intimidating pose. “You’re acting all weird.”

Without really meaning to, he leaned against the wall. Suddenly, Finnick’s hand was less comforting than steadying. Four’s victor other hand hovered near his forearm, as if ready to grab him if he fell.

With the wall firmly at his back, he didn’t feel like he was about to fell.

But he did have to fight the urge to slid down, curl into a ball and either cry or beg for mercy from whatever deity liked to torture him, even if he didn’t even believe in anything. 

“It’s not twins.” The words were hard to articulate but he needed to do it. Effie was upset and, clearly, he needed to step up. This was his fault and he was responsible. She needed him to be strong and, _fuck_ , but he wouldn’t let her down.

“What do you mean it’s not twins?” Katniss scoffed. “They read the ultrasound wrong? It’s just one? That’s good, right? You didn’t even _want_ one and Effie was all panicky about having two so surely it’s…”

“Katniss.” Finnick cut her off suddenly. “ _Do_ _shut_ _up_ now.”

The girl turned her head toward Four’s victor with an offended scowl but Finnick wasn’t looking at her – or at Jo who was slowly working out the same thing the boy had – he was staring at Haymitch, half amused and half sympathetic. “How many?”

Haymitch licked his lips again. Why did his mouth feel so dry?

“They said three but who knows.” He didn’t mean to chuckle but suddenly _he was_ because it was the best joke, wasn’t it? “Maybe next ultrasound, it’s gonna be four.”

Katniss was gaping, at a loss for words.

Jo let out an amused whistle. “You certainly don’t do things by half, old man.”

“ _Three_ babies?” Katniss squeaked. “There _must_ be a mistake!”

“Well…” Finnick made a face. “I _did_ think she was getting really big, even for twins, but I didn’t want to tell her when she asked. I value my life.” The young man patted his shoulder. “How are you?”

Haymitch shrugged.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Katniss asked. “When they told you it was twins you had a panic attack and now there are _three_ and you’re just…”

She waved her hand at him as if it explained anything.

So well-spoken, his girl. He felt a rush of affection for her all the same.

“Don’t know.” he muttered. “Just don’t have it in me to freak out. I’m _fucking_ tired.”

“You’re in _fucking_ shock, more like.” Jo snorted, stepping around Katniss and to his other side. She exchanged a complicated look with Finnick who nodded once. “Let’s get you back to your room so you can sleep it off.”

“No.” he protested. “I don’t want her to wake up alone. And I should check in with Command…”

“I’ll swing by and explain everything to Plutarch once you’re in bed.” Finnick promised.

“And I’ll sit with Effie.” Katniss added.

Haymitch looked at all them, feeling so detached and yet very grateful at the same time. He didn’t trust a lot of people but those three… Those three he would give his life for and he knew they would likely do the same for him – maybe not Johanna but he couldn’t fault her for that, she was too much of a victor, and he wouldn’t want her to anyway.

“Three babies. That’s a lot of babies to protect.” he said.

“Too many.” Jo commented, matter-of-factly. She deftly sidestepped Finnick’s kick but didn’t duck fast enough to avoid Katniss slapping her arm.

“Luckily, there are a lot of us to help you protect them.” Katniss replied with a hard glare for Jo.

“Yes.” Finnick nodded. “Nobody will touch those babies while I live, Haymitch.”

Both Four’s victor and the girl looked at Jo expectantly. It was several moments of peer pressure before Seven’s victor rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll help protect the spawns and the _bitch_ too. But I won’t be happy about it.”

“You’re never happy about anything.” Finnick cheerfully remarked.

“You’re _too_ happy about _everything_.” Johanna retorted.

They kept bickering all the way to his compartment but he didn’t complain, he didn’t even protest when Finnick tossed the sheets back so he could lie down in bed and actually tucked him in afterwards.

He was lost inside his own head, lost to thoughts of three babies crawling all around Effie’s impractical apartment – because they _would_ have to stay at her apartment for a while after they won, wouldn’t they? And it couldn’t be an _if_ anymore, he really, _really_ needed to win that war. He had _three_ babies to bring up now, he couldn’t do that in a bunker.

Her apartment wasn’t as bad as some Capitols’ he had seen over the years, it was a bit too bright for him, what with every room being painted in a vivid color, but at least it had some soul… It was just… How long would they have to stay? Long enough for the babies not to be trapped in a crib anymore? How long did it take before a baby started being active? He just couldn’t stop picturing her glass table with its sharp edges or how easily the only bookshelf in her place could fall if a little baby tugged on it, or the huge bay windows a child could accidentally break and fall through…

How were they expected to keep an eye on _three_ babies at the same time? Even without thinking about the ramifications of the disaster that was him fathering children, he couldn’t quite get past the panic of _numbers_. The babies wouldn’t remain babies forever. Soon, they would get out of their cribs and crawl and then walk and, oh _shit_ , _run_ … How would they keep up? He wasn’t _young_ anymore. He would be forty-two in a few months. _Forty-two_. How could a forty-two year-old man keep up with _three_ babies? He was too old to have _one_. Never mind _three_.

His slumber was fleeting and light, unable as he was to properly shut his brain off. After two hours of useless drifting off, he accepted rest as a lost cause and made his way back to the hospital with enough stuff to keep Effie entertained concealed under a blanket. He left out the sketchpad and the nail polish since it was the most reprehensible. He didn’t think she would get in trouble for the book, the magazines or the knitting stuff.

Katniss was curled up in the visitor chair, deep asleep. She woke up as soon as he touched her shoulder though, her body tensing under his hand until she recognized him, then it relaxed but not completely.

“The nurse tried to kick me out.” she grumbled. “There are visiting hours. I had to pretend to leave and sneak back in.”

The hospital corridors had been empty, as they often were at night, he hadn’t met anyone. Then again, people weren’t supposed to roam around after curfew. He had permission because he worked in Command, he fully intended to use and abuse that power.

“They won’t kick _me_ out.” he snorted. “Go to bed, sweetheart. You’ve got your tests soon, yeah?”

“In a week.” she confirmed. “But Jo and I are ready.”

Ready to get assigned to a squad, ready to be sent to the Capitol to fight… _Haymitch_ wasn’t ready for any of that. If Coin had her say, Katniss would be on the front lines – probably to get bombed into oblivious at the soonest opportunity. Plutarch had his back though and the Star Squad idea wasn’t a bad one.

“Hey.” he called softly when she was on the threshold. “Thanks.”

Katniss shot him a complicated look over her shoulder. It was hard to say in the dim lights of hospital night time but she looked a bit thoughtful. “We’re family.”

Which meant _don’t mention it_.

Which also meant she intended to _really_ do anything to protect Effie and the babies.

“Yeah, we are.” he answered, hoping she would hear the gruff affection in his voice.

It was as close to saying they loved each other as they were going to get. They weren’t good at expressing that kind of sentiment. Neither of them.

Katniss nodded and disappeared in the semi-dark corridor, leaving him to watch Effie’s drug-induced sleep.

He drifted off a little but startled awake the first time she moved. An hour and a half after he had taken Katniss’ place, her slumber became less peaceful. She jerked and mumbled, her fingers clenching without warning…

He just studied her for a while, familiar enough with nightmares to know she was having one but hoping it would pass by itself. When she started thrashing for real, he carefully moved to sit on the bed – in the small space there was left next to her hip – and gently shook her shoulder.

She startled awake with a gasp, half rising up, and immediately clutched her stomach, her wide glassy eyes meeting his. “The babies… Someone stole the babies…”

“Nobody stole the babies.” he promised, pushing a little on her shoulder so she would lie back down. “That’s the drug talking. They couldn’t use normal sedatives, this one gives you funky dreams.”

He would know, it was the one they had used on him during his withdrawals. Nothing addictive in it, it was less potent than the usual sedatives but it also made you a lot more loopy when it faded.

She stared at him, blinking hard as if nothing he was saying made any sense.

“Nobody stole our babies?” she eventually asked in a small voice, as if it was truly what she was most frightened of right then.

Well… To be fair, it was a _fucking_ scary thought. If _anyone_ ever kidnapped their children… He wasn’t ready to go through another _Peeta has been captured_ fiasco.

“Babies are all there and accounted for.” he promised, his lips twitching, brushing her hair back.

She relaxed into the petting, her fluttering eyelids closed again. “Even the big ones?”

He snorted, imagining the expression of utter outrage on Katniss’ face if Effie ever called her _her_ _baby_ to her face. “Even the big ones.”

“Good.” She muffled a yawn in her hand. “We need to be more careful not to misplace those…”

It sounded a bit slurred but Haymitch snorted again all the same. “We sure do.”

“I love you.” she mumbled.

Then she was snoring softly.

He had never thought he would ever find snoring cute before. She didn’t usually do it – she drooled a lot in her sleep but she always denied it and threatened to cut some parts of him he was fond of when he called her out on it so it was better left unsaid.

“Back at you, princess.” he whispered, brushing a soft kiss on her lips. Then, because they were alone and it was dark, he brushed another kiss on her stomach. “Please, don’t be four.” He felt stupid talking to her belly, but… “Three’s enough. I ain’t gonna complain about three if that means we don’t get four, yeah?” He had made Steve swear high and low that there was _not one single chance_ he had missed another baby but he didn’t trust anything anymore. “Not that we don’t want you, Baby C, ‘cause… You’re here now.” He hated the thought of any child of his feeling less than loved. He would be _shit_ at expressing it but he didn’t want his babies to grow up feeling unloved. Effie was good at shoveling affection on people though so… Hopefully it would compensate his emotional constipation, as she put it. “You’ve all got to stay, now. _All_ of you. Nobody’s slipping down before the right date, yeah?”

Because he knew Effie… She had freaked out over the news but by the time she woke up, as terrified as she would be, she would also be in love with their third baby.

Losing any one of them would devastate her.

It was also really possible it would devastate him too…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we love our victors family? I'm afraid I do love them all so much... We really should try not to misplace any of them ;) Haymitch took the news better than expected. Are you proud of him? I am a little bit haha. I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know your thoughts!


	15. Chapter 15

Effie woke up with a funny taste on her tongue and a fuzzy mind. Both screamed sleeping pills to her but since she hadn’t indulged in that particular addiction in a while, she jumped to the next logical conclusion: drugs. She had been drugged.

She fought to open her eyes but all she managed to do was uselessly flutter her eyelids open and close…

“You’re fine.” Haymitch’s voice promised from her left side, slightly rough. His hand soon covered hers. “You’re fine, sweetheart. Take your time.”

Feeling a lot less panicky now that she knew Haymitch was around – and, therefore, certain she was safe – she stopped fighting so hard to properly wake up, allowing herself to gradually emerge from the drug-induced slumber. After a few minutes, of course, she started remembering why she had been sedated in the first place.

She turned her hand so her palm was pressed against Haymitch’s. He entwined their fingers without a moment of hesitation but didn’t say anything, giving her the time she needed to open her eyes and take stock of her surroundings.

The hospital room was as generic as it got in that place: everything was grey, nothing of note except for the pile of magazines and the pink book on the bedside table, _and_ the knitting needles and balls of yarn propped on top of them – she had knitted and undone at least three sweaters already, since wool was limited and she had to keep busy with what she had.

“How long…” She didn’t go to the end of that sentence. Her mouth was awfully dry.

“Hours.” he answered anyway, reaching for a glass and a pitcher of water. She took the glass he handed and sipped the cold water gratefully. “Was starting to get worried you’d never wake up…”

He was joking, she thought, but not quite. There was a catch to his voice, as if he truly didn’t trust the doctors enough not to doubt they hadn’t gone awry with the sedating. Well… Steve _hadn’t_ particularly shone with his medical exploits so far and yet she couldn’t bear the thought of one of those brainwashed soldier-doctors who thought her procreating was a _wonderful_ gift to their population – that it was _her duty_ to spawn the next generation of Thirteen’s canon folder and that she should be grateful for the opportunity.

She couldn’t fault Steve for choosing to put her to sleep either – nor Haymitch for agreeing to it. She _had_ been rather hysterical, hadn’t she? She didn’t think she had ever felt that… _loose_. What a terrible display she had made… Her mother would have…

“I have to apologize.” she whispered. “I am… My behavior…”

“You had a shock.” he sighed.

“I hit you. That is unforgivable and I am so…” she insisted.

“Effie.” he cut her off, looking tired, before waving his hand. “It’s fine. You weren’t yourself.”

She shook her head, still regretful that she had gone that far. Even at the worst of anger or shocked beyond belief, Haymitch would _never_ have lifted his hand on her. “It is not an excuse. I…”

“Yeah, well… To be fair, if you hadn’t stopped me the day they told us you were pregnant, I’d probably have rage-destroyed the whole District, so…” He shrugged. “You know. We ain’t the best at handling that sort of news.”

_That sort of news_ …

He meant the third baby, of course.

The thing she had carefully not been thinking about since she had woken up. Well… Not _the_ _thing_. Their third child.

“Are we certain there are only three?” she asked. “I would rather not keep doing this… _surprise_ thing. I want an exact headcount.”

“Steve swore to me three was it.” He made a face. “But I ain’t trusting him so I’m thinking we should have four names ready. Just in case.”

She whimpered. “Please, do _not_ joke about this… If we have four babies, I might just sedate myself until they are ten.”

His lips twitched but he wasn’t really amused. He had dark bags under his eyes and she wondered if he had slept at all. “You think it’s some sort of cosmic punishment?”

She frowned. “Punishment?”

He scowled. “Yeah, like… You killed kids and you failed to save so many… Here, have three of your own and fail those too.”

She placed her empty glass down on the bedside table and rested her hands on either side of the belly she had just _known_ was too big even for two babies.

_Was_ it karma?

“I do not think we should think about this as a punishment.” she stated quietly.

“Certainly ain’t a _blessing_.” he sighed. “Three’s…” He shook his head. “Can’t even wrap my head around it. Keep thinking we’re gonna accidentally lose one in the woods or something… _Fuck_ , I didn’t even _want_ kids…” A flash of alarm passed on his face, quickly followed by guilt, and he leaned forward to… _pet_ her stomach. “That was before, though, yeah? We’ve got a deal now. Nobody’s dying, nobody’s slipping away before Mama gives birth. Everyone stays right where they are, safe and warm.”

Effie blinked. “Are you talking to the babies?”

Haymitch shot her an uncertain, slightly defensive look. “So what? Like you don’t.”

She… _didn’t really_ , actually. _Well_ … She had talked out loud a lot during the hours trapped in her room, disserting about how innate one of the articles in the magazines was or ranting about her predicament or even just humming various pop songs under her breath but, mostly, it had been to fill the silence and not _specifically_ directed _at_ the babies.

And she now realized she should have been talking to the babies all along.

And the fact that Haymitch had better instincts in that department than her made her feel insecure.

Her lack of answer made Haymitch even more defensive, his face closed. “It’s weird?” He scoffed. “Of course, it’s weird.”

“No, no…” She hurried in reassuring him. “It is rather sweet, actually. And, of course, we should talk to the babies. I just…” She licked her lips, unsure how to explain herself. “I am not sure I know what to tell them. Or how to…” She suddenly had the terrible realization that she had no clue how to do _any_ of this. “My mother made sure I was properly brought up like a lady but she was not… I do not know _how_ to…”

His expression softened. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna be a natural. I can tell.”

“But I did not think to talk to the babies like you just did.” she lamented. “And I should know to do that, shouldn’t I? I am _their_ _mother_. I should know to tell them I love them and reassure them and, perhaps…” She made a face. “I feel _utterly_ unprepared. I _wish_ they had some books I could read about pregnancy in this place. I would feel so much better if I could do some research and…”

“I’ll ask Plutarch to look around.” he cut her off. “Don’t get worked up.”

_Don’t get worked up_ , he said as if it was that easy.

She didn’t understand how he could remain so cool. Although it was probably an act for her sake. He was stupid like that, thinking she needed him to protect her… It made her feel _so_ fond of him…

“I do not know what to do with one baby.” she insisted. “ _Two_ were terrifying. But _three_?”

“I know.” he sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it all night. _Trust me_ , everything that could go wrong… I thought of it.”

Curiously, _that_ helped.

Because he had a tendency to wallow in worst-case scenarios and…

She was terrified, yes, but she didn’t want this whole pregnancy to be cast in a negative light. It couldn’t be good for the babies for them to think that way. 

“A lot of things could also go right.” she countered tentatively.

“Yeah?” he challenged. “Like what?”

It wasn’t his normal stubborn voice and she saw through that ruse in a heartbeat. He was trying to make her feel better by arguing the point. And… It was working. A little.

“We will love them and they will love us and they will be our whole universe.” she offered. At least, that was how she had always conceived motherhood. She had _always_ been determined to do it differently than the way her parents had. Children wouldn’t be ornaments but the heart of her family. She would _never_ neglect them or made them feel less than they were, she would support them in everything they wanted to do and encourage them to try new things even if they weren’t very good at them and… She would love them _unconditionally_. “We will be utterly outnumbered but we will have each other’s back, won’t we? You will spoil them rotten, no doubt, and I will have to be the strict one.”

He hummed. “You’re sure you got that the right way? Cause the way I’m thinking it, you’re the one who spoils them rotten and I’m the one who’s strict”

She pursed her lips. “I have _seen_ you with Katniss and Peeta.”

“Nobody’s ever gonna accuse me of _spoiling_ Katniss and Peeta.” he argued.

“She shot the Gamemakers’ roasted pig and all you did was give her a thumb up.” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, but that’s what made her unique and…” he started the – now very – familiar argument only to stop talking when his communicuff beeped. He made an annoyed face. “It’s the second time. I’ve got to go. The troops are almost at the outskirts of the city. Beetee’s got a holo of some of the Capitol’s defenses… It’s _insane_. It’s a giant arena, it’s gonna be a while before we make enough of a breach to hit the city proper.”

She wasn’t sure she was happy with her city being breached but the soonest they took the Capitol, the soonest she could get out of Thirteen.

“Go.” she told him, forcing a smile. “ _We_ will be just fine.” He smirked back, planting a kiss on her lips before he went – and briefly placing a hand on top of her belly. Once he was gone, she gently rubbed her stomach. “Well, looks like it is just you and me now, babies, so what would you like to talk about?”

She wasn’t sure how exactly one was supposed to talk to their unborn babies so she proceeded to tell them just how _marvelous_ they were going to be – and repeatedly asked Baby C to please stop kicking her because that was not very polite. _That_ was how Annie found her when she visited with some – very much appreciated – fresh flowers from the surface to brighten her room a little. 

It was always hard to tell with the girl, as nice as she was, but Effie thought Four’s victor was a little weirder than usual. She had a secret smile on her lips and no amount of probing on Effie’s part convinced her to tell her what it was about. She put it on the account of her being a newlywed and left it at that.

Being forced on bed rest in the hospital was about otherwise as fun as she had expected it to be.

Nurses checked in at regular intervals and she did her best not to be too much of an annoyance because she knew it was better to ingratiate oneself to staff members in the long run – _and_ there were a lot of wounded or dying soldiers being shipped back to Thirteen so it wouldn’t have done to complain too much about being bored.

Still, she was happy when the children swung by after their training – even Johanna trailed after Katniss, Prim and Finnick, dragging her feet and looking for the world like it was torture to be there. They distracted her for a while, teased her mercilessly about her previous day murdering urges and eventually left her with hugs and a promise to come back the next day – except Johanna who flat out told her she looked fat.

She drifted off right after dinner, more exhausted than her day could account for. Then again, she supposed that was what happened when you were growing three babies inside you. _Three babies_. Inside her tiny body. That was insane. Haymitch had _a lot_ to answer for.

She woke up with a start with that very thought in mind, automatically smiling when she spotted him back in the visitor chair, entirely focused on one of the tablets they used in Command. He was scribbling on it with a stylus that also came straight from Command. She was less happy to see he was slouched low in his chair and his feet were propped on her mattress – dirty boots and all.

“I thought you were not supposed to take them out of the briefing room…” she hummed.

He startled, clearly too absorbed by his work to have noticed she had woken up, but immediately relaxed and flashed her a smirk. “Briefing was boring so I started doing… _stuff_.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “There better _not_ be anything untoward on that screen, Haymitch. I do not think you can wipe the history clean as well as you could in the Capitol.” The smirk twitched and she just _knew_ he was fighting not to chuckle. She sat up before he could turn the whole exchange into innuendos. She was not sure she could handle innuendos when she would not be able to cash in on them for at least another three months. Steve had been _very_ clear on that front. Total abstinence, it was. “What is worth stealing a tablet for?”

He shrugged. “They wouldn’t let me have some spare paper.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips. “Get your feet off my bed.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Or what?”

“Someone is in a mood tonight.” she huffed.

“Someone’s been making a list.” he mocked.

“A list?” She was intrigued. Lists were _her_ things. She had never seen him actually sit down and jot a list down in all the time she had known him. “What kind of list? Because if it is a list of everything we need to buy – now in _triplicate_ – I have one in our room…”

He cleared his throat. “List of names.”

“Oh.” She was even more surprised. “You have not been very serious about names so far.”

“Neither have you.” he retorted.

She granted him the point with a nod. She had delighted on suggesting the most awful Capitol names just to make him go crossed-eyes. And she hadn’t let herself seriously consider possible choices either because… “The moment we give them names, they become real, you realize.”

The look Haymitch shot her was complicated. “I’m all about burying my head in my ass but… They’re already real, sweetheart. I think it’s time we face that ‘cause… They’re here and they’re moving and they’re soon gonna be out so…”

“Yes, you are right. Of course.” She watched him for a while, her head tilted to the side. “You are so… _invested_ today… Talking to the babies, listing names… It _is_ nice and I have not been thinking about this as seriously as we ought to either probably but…” He was shutting himself off, his face closing… “It _is_ nice, Haymitch. I just wonder… Why the change?”

He hesitated, tapping the stylus against the side of his thigh. The tremors in his fingers weren’t too bad that day, she noticed absentmindedly. “Guess the third one was the kick in the ass I needed. I’ve been thinking… When I let myself think about the babies and us, I’ve been picturing a world where we won and everything is fine cause I can’t handle anything else, you know?”

“Yes.” she said at once. She hadn’t let herself think about what would happen if they lost the war either.

“Well… The war ain’t won yet. And even when we get there, when we get rid of Snow and the Games, free all the Districts…” His voice trailed off a little. “It’s gonna be a while before it all settles down. It’s stupid to think we can have that world we dream about before the kids are born. In a couple of years, sure… Maybe sooner, even… But we can’t afford to be stupid about all this, Effie.” Grey eyes met blue, hard but insistent. “Jo and Finnick, I trust to handle themselves; Katniss and Peeta, we’re gonna have to keep a close eye on… But those babies… They’re gonna be _defenseless_. Protecting them… That falls on us. We’ve got to stop acting like they’re a problem to worry about later ‘cause, honestly… _Later_ ’s probably gonna be a _fucking_ mess and they deserve better than us choosing random names cause we’re out of time or…”

He stopped talking and shrugged.

“You are right.” she agreed again.

And there was no guarantee that either of them would see the end of this war, she didn’t add. They were safer than most. They were certainly safer than any of their victors – and that didn’t sit well with her _at all_. But Haymitch was a key member of the rebellion and that made him a target – and that was without taking into account the fact that _victors_ as a rule seemed to be targeted at an alarming rate all over the country. And _Effie_ … Well… There were a lot of risks to that pregnancy.

Without mentioning the fact that they had enemies much closer than in the Capitol. They were right next door.

“Sorry…” he sighed. “All that ain’t very happy thoughts… You ain’t supposed to stress…”

“Let’s hear those names.” she dismissed cheerfully. “What do you have?”

He studied her a moment longer and then cleared his throat, looking down at the tablet. “Been thinking about the girl… Baby A.”

“You mean Agrippa.” she teased.

“No, I don’t mean the granny, no.” He shot her a mock glare. “You know, it’s kind of traditional for girls to have flower names in Twelve…” 

“I am not naming my daughter Rose or Lily.” she warned. “It is certainly very pretty but it is _awfully_ common.”

He shot her another look but crossed two names from his list with the stylus. “Fine. How about Ivy?”

“I am not naming her after anything poisonous either.” she deadpanned.

Another name crossed. She wondered how long the list was.

“Marigold.” he suggested. 

“Too common.” she dismissed.

“We ain’t naming her with an awful Capitol name she won’t be able to pronounce before she’s eight.” he retorted.

She pouted. “There _must_ be some flower names that are a little less common, surely. _Aster_ is a very pretty name and not common at all…”

“We ain’t naming our kid after Katniss’ mom.” he ruled out.

“Obviously _not_.” she huffed. “I would sooner name her after my own mother and since I do not _hate_ our child… What else do you have on your list?”

“Marilla.” he offered.

She pouted again. “I do not hate it but I am not sure I _love_ it either. Let’s put it in the maybe column.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “We have a maybe column?”

“We _need_ a maybe column.” She rolled her eyes. “Do I have to teach you everything about making lists?”

“Last one I’ve got is Betony.” he said. “Was thinking… Betty for short or something. It’s cute, yeah?”

She hummed, not-committing to anything. “If you insist on flowers…”

“We don’t have to.” he grumbled, ill-at-ease. “Just thought it would narrow down the choices.”

“Do they have some sort of database in this place?” she asked, holding out her hand for the tablet. He hesitated – probably because there were sensitive information in there and he wasn’t supposed to share – but when she wriggled her fingers with an annoyed look, he reluctantly handed it over. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for but, then again, she was a little more tech-savy than he was. A plant directory and their effects – which she couldn’t care less about – but with the meaning of their name – which she _did_. “Perfect. Let me have a look…”

Haymitch was straining his neck to keep an eye on the screen and she eventually scooted over to the edge of the mattress to leave him some room. It took some shifting and snuggling but they eventually managed to fit together on the bed, with their backs to the headboard and their sides pressed tight together. His hand distractedly felt around her stomach for the occasional kick but she didn’t comment on that.

“Marilla means shining sea…” she hummed. “I am not sure I like that.”

“Do we really care about meaning, though?” he sighed in the long suffering tone that he always used when he thought she was being _extra_.

“Yes, we do.” she snapped. “ _Euphemia_ means well-spoken and I like to think it fits me well.” 

“Don’t really care about meaning.” he insisted, in case it wasn’t obvious. “This one’s nice.”

He pointed at the _Linnea_ entry.

“So simple though.” she lamented.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated. We don’t want her hating her name for her whole life, _Euphemia_.” he pointed out.

“I do not hate my name, I simply hate the way my mother uses it.” she countered. “Oh, what about this one… Amaranth…”

“It’s a mouthful.” he groaned. “Doesn’t roll easy off the tongue.”

“True.” she granted, scrolling up. “ _Oh_. Amaryllis. Now, _that_ is a god name… _Amaryllis…_ Oh, I _really_ like this one…”

“Big for such a small thing…” Haymitch tempered.

“You can shorten it to Amy or Lys. You will end up calling her _sweetheart_ or _darling_ anyway.” she dismissed, tapping on the entry. “Oh, look at how _gorgeous_ this flower is! I have never seen any before…” She scrolled down to the etymology section. “Haymitch, this is _perfect_. Look, _look_! It means _to sparkle._ Isn’t it predestined?”

“I don’t know. Is it, really?” he mocked.

She looked at him with the big pleading eyes he usually had troubles resisting. “Do you _truly_ hate it?”

He opened his mouth and closed it, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I ain’t hating it… Guess there are worse names… _Amaryllis_ … Kind of pretty… And… Amy for short… That works…” 

She beamed and pecked his lips a few times until he stopped scowling and responded. “So, it is settled?”

He sighed against her mouth, stealing another long kiss. “Guess Baby A has a name.”

“Amaryllis.” She grinned, placing her palm flat against her right side. “Do you like it, baby girl?” There was no well-timed kick but the babies weren’t usually very active at this time of day so she didn’t worry herself too much over it. “She loves it.” she declared on behalf of her daughter.

“Does she now?” he snorted, nuzzling her ear a little. “One down, two to go. And if there’s a surprise fourth one, let’s agree we’re opening a book at random and giving him or her the first name we find cause it’s gonna be painful enough to agree on two boy names now.”

“Do they have a name directory data base, do you think?” she asked hopefully, tapping on the screen in hope of finding a secret stash of good names…

“Don’t think so.” He snatched the tablet from her and carefully placed it on the empty chair. “Time to sleep now. Babies need some nap time.”

“Do the babies need some nap time or do _you_?” she challenged, resting her head on his shoulder.

“We all do.” he countered, wrapping his arms around her. It couldn’t be comfortable for him and he would have a crick in the neck if he fell asleep like that but she leaned against him anyway, telling herself it would only be for a minute or two.

She still had all the intention in the world to move when she fell asleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooo Baby A has a name! How cute are the parents to be? :p Who do you think will be the one spoiling them and who do you think will be the strict one? I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know!


	16. Chapter 16

Effie scribbled another name in the margin of her magazine, quickly glancing up when she spotted movement on the threshold of her room from the corner of her eye. The short bit of pencil Steve had sneaked her the previous day was deftly concealed beneath the pages, least she was accused of stealing Thirteen’s _precious_ resources.

It was only Johanna though and the girl had clearly seen better days. Seven’s victor dragged herself through the door and closed it behind her, shooting her a warning glare. “Ain’t here to visit, just here to hide.”

Well, Effie mused, that made more sense. In the last week since she had been locked up in there, Johanna had sometimes tagged along with Katniss and Finnick but it was clear she never came from her own free will.

“Didn’t you have your final exams today?” she asked.

The glare was borderline murderous but Effie didn’t let that rattle her. She placed her hand on her stomach and rubbed the sore spot Amy had just kicked.

“I failed.” Jo muttered, her voice hard.

She heard everything Seven’s victor didn’t say in that statement though. And while Johanna slowly – and a little stiffly – made her way to the visitor chair on which she flopped down gracelessly, Effie tried to figure out the best way to handle the situation.

Johanna had never liked her.

She wouldn’t say the dislike was entirely mutual because she tried to be a good person and not hate on poor girls who had had everything ripped away from them but there was no denying Johanna Mason was a tough person to love. The girl had always been very vocal about her disgust over hers and Haymitch’s relationship – denied as it had been back then – and her hatred for her in particular. Effie had done her best not to let it matter, always lending a hand when the victor was down, like she did with Finnick. They were so young… They were not _her_ victors but she felt a responsibility there nevertheless. She had always thought being an escort meant taking care of her victors and… Well, there was no other escort there to do that job, now, was there? And it wasn’t like Jo had ever liked her own escort anyway.

Effie couldn’t fault her for her hatred of anything Capitol but… _Still_. It made spending time with Johanna difficult.

“What happened?” she asked, a bit cautious.

“Didn’t come here to talk.” Johanna snapped. “I came here cause it’s the last place anyone’s gonna think of finding me.”

If she had been a dog, she would have been the kind to bite off a helping hand.

Effie pursed her lips but went back to her magazine, deciding that Seven’s victor would likely _not_ report her for pencil thievery. She thought for a moment before jutting down another name. It was a short list she had compiled but she and Haymitch hadn’t been making any progress on the boys names front. They didn’t agree on anything.

“What are you doing?” Johanna asked after a few minutes of sulking.

Or perhaps, Effie mused, studying her from the corner of her eye, the girl was _not_ sulking. There was a tightness around her mouth and her jaw was clenched. Perhaps the girl was _in pain_.

“Trying to figure out names.” she hummed.

“Ah, yeah…” Jo snorted. “Katniss told me you decided on one for the girl. Stupid name. Don’t even remember it. Can’t understand why Haymitch went for it.”

Offended as she was on her daughter’s behalf, Effie huffed. “You may call her Amy if it makes you feel better.”

She had a feeling _everyone_ would be calling Amaryllis _Amy_ anyway, the same way everyone was calling her _Effie_. She didn’t really mind. This way she got to give her daughter a respectable lady name should she ever wish to embrace that part of her heritage but, at the same time, she would have a practical easier name to carry around.

“Nothing about this makes me feel better.” Jo mumbled, eyeing her huge stomach with disgust.

Effie narrowed her eyes. “You may insult me all you wish, Johanna, but I draw the line at my children. They are _perfect_ and _innocent_ and do _not_ deserve your scorn so, if you are determined to hate them just because I am their mother, I would advise you to keep your distance. Are we clear?”

It wasn’t often she truly scolded Johanna. Nagged at her, yes. Criticize her, she had done plenty of times – although she liked to call that _advising_. Order her about, on occasion. But _scold_? She usually kept the scolding for Finnick, Katniss, Peeta and, when the situation called for it, Haymitch.

Jo clearly did not like to be scolded but she surprisingly didn’t lash out too badly.

“Don’t hate the babies.” she grumbled. “They’re _Haymitch’s_.”

Ah, yes, of course.

She wasn’t sure if that hero worship crush of hers would ever entirely disappear. She supposed she should just count herself lucky that Johanna had stopped trying to seduce him at every turn a couple of years earlier.

She was not worried about Haymitch’s succumbing to her flirtatious attempts. Haymitch had many flaws but being attracted to girls who were young enough to be his daughter wasn’t one of them.

“They are mine too.” she retorted, a bit dry.

Johanna shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect. Hopefully they won’t take after you too much.”

Effie took a deep breath and went back to staring at her magazine. She was, of course, curious as to why Johanna was hiding in her room but Johanna – not unlike Haymitch and Katniss – was better not directly confronted. Handling her called for a little more subtlety than that so she proceeded to ignore her as much as one could ignore a tall scowling young woman slouched at one’s bedside.

“Since you are here, you might as well help. Do you have any good name to suggest that begins with B?” The moment the question slipped past her lips, she regretted it because Jo’s face closed. _Blight_. She had forgotten about Blight. “Haymitch does not want to name him after anyone he knows.” she added quickly. “It would be too painful for him.”

It was a nice save, if she could say so herself, because she had the feeling Johanna would have liked nothing better than give herself away to an angry outburst.

“Why a B?” the girl asked suspiciously.

“Oh… It does not really matter, I suppose.” she sighed with a small pout, placing a hand on her stomach. “It is just… They call them Baby A, Baby B and Baby C here… And… Haymitch and I have been using that code when we talk about them… And since we found a name that begins with A for Baby A, I was thinking…” She shook her head. “It does seem like an impossible task though. There are not many names starting with B or C I have not suggested yet that Haymitch likes and I do not like his choices either so…”

Johanna snickered. “Why don’t you call one Junior and save yourself the trouble?”

“Believe it or not, I actually considered it.” she deadpanned. But Haymitch had flat out refused to name one of the boys after him. First because he despised the thought, then because it seemed unfair. How were they supposed to decide which one would be Junior and wouldn’t the other one always feel bad that they hadn’t chosen him?

Jo didn’t say anything for a while but then, out of the blue, she said. “Brody.”

_Brody Abernathy_ … That had a _nice_ ring to it. She quite liked it, as surprised as she was by the helpful suggestion. It wasn’t exactly a super-sophisticated name but it sounded well.

“Brody?” Effie repeated. “How do you spell it?”

Johanna shrugged, ill-at-ease. “Don’t know. Y. Ie. Whatever.”

She jotted it down with both spelling. “Does it have a meaning?”

She had been struggling with that. She wanted to give meaningful names to her babies but without a book or access to a database like she would have had in the city… Etymology wasn’t a specialty of hers, she had had a phase in her late teenage years when she liked to figure out the meaning behind the names of everyone she had ever met but… Her girlhood was a long time ago.

“It was my brother’s name.” Seven’s victor said in a flat voice. “Before the Capitol slaughtered my family, that is.” The attempt to make it sound like a joke failed and Johanna scowled. “I don’t care. Doesn’t matter to me. You can have the name if you want it.”

“That is very nice of you, Johanna, and it is a very beautiful name. I really _do_ love it.” Effie offered carefully. “But wouldn’t you mind if…”

“ _Doesn’t matter_.” Jo insisted through gritted teeth. “Wouldn’t have said anything if it bothered me. Use it, don’t use it. It’s just a name. Ain’t like I’m ever gonna have a boy to pass it on. And I still think you’re a _bitch_.”

That came out of nowhere but she let it slide and added the name to her list. It was a good sensible name for a boy, she liked it.

“You did not tell me who you are hiding from.” she pointed out, feeling a change of subject was in order. Perhaps the new topic wasn’t a better one but…

“Annoying people.” Jo mumbled, slouching even deeper in the chair. She propped her feet on the mattress and Effie had to clench her jaw hard not to remark on dirty boots that did _not_ belong on her bed.

_Tread carefully_ , she reminded herself, because Johanna could bolt at any second.

“Annoying people who want to support you because you fail your test or annoying people who want to check on you because you _got hurt_ during your test?” she hummed distractedly, as if she wasn’t the slightest bit interested by the answer.

Johanna scowled even harder. “ _Fuck_ _off_.”

“Mind your language in front of my babies.” she chided.

“They’re not even born yet.” Jo scoffed.

Effie suddenly leaned in, grabbed the victor’s wrist – trying not to be too alarmed when Johanna’s instinctive reaction was to sit straight and reach for her waist where she was certain there was a concealed weapon – and forced her hand to her stomach. Seven’s victor’s palm ended flat against the side of her stomach right in time for the next kick.

“That is baby B. Very much awake. Very much listening to your foul vocabulary.” she deadpanned. “ _Mind your language.”_

Johanna rolled her eyes, made a face at her but didn’t snatch her hand back as quickly as Effie would have bet. She did take it away as soon as she let go of her wrist though.

She would have resumed her line of questioning but there was a knock at the door. It opened before she could tell whoever was knocking to come in – which was rude – but when she saw it was Plutarch, she wasn’t surprised. The Head Gamemaker had a tendency to behave as if he was above normal laws.

“I am sorry to interrupt…” the man cheerfully said “…but I am looking for Haymitch.”

“You are not interrupting, we were discussing possible names for the babies.” Effie lied. “And I have not seen Haymitch since this morning.”

Johanna, Effie noticed, was making herself very small and not looking at the Head Gamemaker.

“Haven’t you settled on names yet?” Plutarch asked curiously.

“It is rather a frustrating endeavor.” she sighed, more for show than out of real frustration. Habits died hard and the mask of the escort slipped back on her face very easily when confronted to Plutarch Heavensbee.

The Capitol man nodded thoughtfully. “Well… I have not given any real thoughts to children yet but I always liked _Rufus_ quite well. It is a nice name for a boy…”

Effie went rigid but she still forced a sweet smile on her lips. She didn’t bother curbing her tone though. “No child of mine will _ever_ bear that name while I breathe.”

Plutarch’s eyebrows shot up. “That is a strong reaction. Why… Oh, Flavershym. Of course, I forgot. He is a rather unpleasant fellow.” Her brother-in-law _was_ an unpleasant fellow indeed. One she would _never_ name her child after. The Gamemaker’s communicuff beeped and he glanced at it in annoyance. “I apologize, I must dash. If you see Haymitch…”

“I will tell him you are looking for him.” she politely agreed. Once the man was gone, she turned toward Jo with a lifted eyebrow. “While Plutarch is looking for Haymitch… Is Haymitch one of the people who are looking for _you_?”

Johanna snarled defensively. “There was water, alright? There was water and I panicked and I fainted.”

She frowned in concern. “Did you get hurt?”

Seven’s victor didn’t _look_ hurt but it was always hard to say with those people who insisted on being tough all the time.

She had been against the training in the first place but had any of them listened? _No_. They wanted to do their part, they said. They wanted to help the rebellion. They wanted to _fight_.

All Effie wanted was to wrap them all in a blanket and keep them safe until the end of this stupid war.

And it was _not_ because of _any_ nestling urges, no matter what Steve claimed.

“I’m fine.” Jo grumbled. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare start fussing like you care. I ain’t Finnick or Haymitch or _fucking_ Katniss. You can’t fool _me_.”

“I do care.” She let out a small sigh. “I wish you would see that.” Johanna glared and Effie let it go with a purse of her lips. She averted her eyes back to the magazine. “Do you know what I miss?”

“A single shred of humanity?” Johanna deadpanned. “Common decency? Oh, I know!” The girl faked some dry cheer. “A conscience?”

Effie pursed her lips harder, narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to better glare at the girl who seemed genuinely delighted by her joke. “Tequila, actually.”

A look of longing flashed on Jo’s face. “Tequila. Yeah, wouldn’t mind a shot of that.”

Tequila being the best liquor might have been the only thing they would _ever_ agree on. That and the fact that it was only too easy to hustle money out of clueless men who didn’t think two pretty girls could beat them at pool.

Those evenings at shady bars in the bad parts of the city had been nice enough. Johanna had always complained when Effie tagged along, of course, but they had their moments during those nights. Until Effie thrashed her at pool, that was…

They were silent for a while as they both reflected on the sad lack of tequila – although given Haymitch’s enforced sobriety, the lack of a bar in Thirteen was probably a good thing.

Or perhaps it was only Effie spacing out because of that sudden weird craving – cravings were the _worst_ because there was _no way_ to fulfill them in this place and, lately, she could have _killed_ for one of those sandwiches full of meatballs that they sold on the City Circle; she had never been especially fond of them but now she would kill for one.

Suddenly, Johanna put her foot back on the floor and leaned forward a little, tentatively poking at her stomach.

Effie wordlessly guided her hand to where Baby C was rolling – or whatever it was they did inside her all day.

“This is the weirdest _shit_.” Seven’s victor muttered. “Doesn’t it freak you out?”

“Language.” She clucked her tongue and ignored her answering glare. “Nowadays I am more scared if I do not feel them for a while. If they do not move I keep thinking they might be…”

She stopped short of actually confessing it.

She had _barely_ admitted it to Haymitch and he had been too smart to press the matter. He had hugged her instead.

Johanna had no such tact.

“Dead.” the girl finished for her.

Effie elected to ignore that. “It _does_ feel weird though. And three are rather a lot of little humans to have inside you.”

And yet she smiled fondly even as she said that.

Jo watched her with disgust all over her face for a while and then jerked her head away to stare at the wall. “They shoved me in water and they turned on the juice. I can’t even take a shower anymore.”

She forced herself not to react.

Reacting to that sort of information was never good with people like Jo, Haymitch or Katniss. They mistook it for pity one time out of two.

It wasn’t easy for her because _every time_ they revealed that sort of hurt, her first instinct was to soothe with embraces and love.

“I see.” she said quietly.

Had Thirteen known beforehand? Had they made sure Jo would fail the test? And if so… Was it a kindness? A way to protect her in the long run? To prevent her from heading straight into a fight she wasn’t ready for? Or was it a way to take out one of Katniss’ steady allies before the fight even begun? A way to ensure she would have one less person Haymitch trusted implicitly at the Mockingjay’s back?

“Don’t make it a big deal.” Jo warned.

“It _is_ a big deal.” Effie countered calmly. And it also explained why Johanna never smelled entirely _fresh_ anymore – although she had politely avoided mentioning it. “But there is no shame in it. What they did was not your fault, Johanna. So you need a little more time to recover than you thought…”

“I should go too.” she snapped. “I _need_ to go too. I’ve _earned_ it. I wanna go and stab Snow in his _fucking_ throat!”

“You realize there is no actual way Katniss and her squad, whoever they will be, will be allowed anywhere near the front lines?” she tempered. “The chances of you actually seeing battle…”

… would hopefully be minimal.

Haymitch had _promised_.

He had been working with Plutarch on the Star Squad idea since Katniss had started training – not that the girl was aware yet.

“Other victors are fighting.” Johanna cut her off with a snarl. “They’re out there _fighting_.”

“They are out there _dying_.” Effie corrected. “Trust me, if Haymitch could have gotten more of them back here, he would have.”

Victors were an endangered species, targeted by both sides. Thirteen wasn’t exempt from it.

Privately, Effie thought Coin wanted them all gone – or, at least, the ones she couldn’t be sure to control.

“It’s not _his_ choice to make.” Jo growled. “ _I_ want…”

“He is doing _his best_ to protect you all.” Effie cut her off. “And you are _not_ going to repay that by sneaking out to the Capitol behind his back, are we entirely clear on _that_?”

Seven’s victor narrowed her eyes at her. “You ain’t the boss of me, Trinket.”

“There are other ways you can help to make a difference.” she insisted. “We will need someone here for propos. And I know you will be better at reciting lines than Katniss.”

Slowly, the girl deflated a little until she was slouching again.

She hoped she had convinced her.

Because they were interrupted again by the door opening without warning.

Haymitch didn’t look entirely pissed off but he also didn’t look pleased. “I’m gonna give it to you, _this_ was the best hiding place. Didn’t even think to look for you here.”

Johanna sneered. “ _Fuck_ _off_.”

“Didn’t we _just_ have a conversation about appropriate language?” Effie hissed.

Seven’s victor rolled her eyes but amended without departing from her sneer. “ _F_. off.”

Haymitch’s eyebrows shot up at that auto-censure and looked at Effie who preened.

_Tamer of victors_ , that was what they should call her.

“ _Okay_ …” he drawled out, as if he had just stepped into a weird alternate dimension. “You’re good, sweetheart?”

It took Effie an embarrassing second to realize he wasn’t talking to her.

“I ain’t your sweetheart, old man.” Johanna grumbled, hauling herself out of the chair. “And like I told your brainless bird, I’m _fine_.” She so clearly was _not_ fine it made Effie’s heart _ache_ as she watched her limp out of the room with a glare for Haymitch. “Don’t follow me.”

Haymitch watched her go with worry and annoyance written all over his face but he respected her wishes and let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing beats Effie and Jo's bonding time haha. So, Effie the tamer of victors or what? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know!


	17. Chapter 17

Haymitch waited until Johanna had walked down the corridor to close the door. With a sigh, he made his way to the chair she had just vacated and dropped down on it, ignoring the way it creaked under his weight.

Effie was watching him with a knowing look. “I take it Katniss and Finnick passed the tests?”

“With flying colors.” he grumbled, rubbing his face. “Was hoping they wouldn’t but here we are.” He let out another sigh. “We’re telling them about the star squad thing tonight. They’re leaving tomorrow.”

He tried not to feel as panicky about this as Effie obviously did. She locked it all away though. Looking at her, nobody else would have been able to tell. He just knew her that well.

“Plutarch was looking for you.” she informed him.

“Yeah, I know. He’s the one who told me Jo was here.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to go back. Wanna check on Peeta though.”

She nodded and asked the appropriate questions about the boy’s recovery but he could tell she was distracted. Or scared maybe. She was clutching her stomach after all and, lately, she only did that when she was afraid for the kids – _any_ of the kids.

He could tell her Katniss would be as safe as she was ever going to be, that he and Plutarch were taking all the necessary precautions they could think of, that the squad would mostly be used for live footage and not for actual combat but… He was being slowly but surely pushed aside. There were briefings he wasn’t invited to since he had flat out voiced his opposition to the Hummingbird Operation. As of now, that _shit_ was still a last resort. He hadn’t been the only one vocally disapproving and, as far as he knew, it wasn’t on the table yet. But he was wary of the twinkle of greed in Coin’s gaze every time she studied a map of the Capitol.

“So, what have you got?” he asked instead, hoping to distract both of them with less gloomy thoughts.

He nodded at the magazine in which she had been scribbling.

She blinked at him as if she didn’t know what he was talking about at first and then seemed to remember and glanced down. “Oh! I have a few good names. No doubt you will hate them all. Did you think of any?”

“A couple.” He shrugged. “Didn’t have much time.”

“Yes…” She forced a smile. “You know… I never thought this would be so difficult… I always thought if I ever had a son I would name him after my grandfather.”

He frowned. That was the first he heard of that and they had been arguing about names for a whole week – and not in any fun way. “What was his name?”

Her smile softened into something genuine. “Timotheo.”

_Timotheo_. Well, it was Capitol, no doubt about that. But… He shrugged. “It ain’t _bad_. I kind of like it. We can shorten it to Tim or Theo…”

She shook her head before he was even done talking. “My sister got there first. Besides, you said you did not want to name them after dead people.”

He winced. “Yeah, but that was mostly for me. I can’t have my kids named after people I lost but if _you_ ’re okay with it…”

“It is a moot point anyway.” she interrupted. “As I said, Lyssa got there first. She named her second son Timotheo.” She pursed her lips. “I _do_ want to use it as a middle name for one of the boys, though. If you are alright with it…”

“Middle names?” His eyebrows shot up. “You want to do _middle names_? Sweetheart, we can barely find _first_ names.”

“I know but…” She made a face. “It _is_ rather important for me than one of them is called after him and… We can’t have one with a middle name and not the others.”

_Middle names._

It hadn’t even occurred to him. .

“We don’t really do middle names in Twelve…” he hesitated. “I don’t have one.”

“Really? _I_ do.” she hummed. “It is Gail, if you are wondering.”

“Gail?” he repeated. It kind of suited her but… “What’s the point of having a second name you’re never gonna use?”

She looked at him as if she did not quite know but did not want to lose the argument. “It is proper. We use one of the child’s grandparents’ name in the Capitol traditionally but… We are certainly _not_ naming Amy after my mother, not even for a middle name.”

They would never use her middle name so what did it matter?

The idea floated into his head that if they didn’t name her after _her_ mother, maybe they should name her after _his_.

He wasn’t sure he was entirely at ease with the idea. He stood by what he had said. He didn’t want his kids to feel like they had to live up to their dead namesakes… And he didn’t want the pain every time he had to call one of them, he didn’t want the recollection and the memories, the bitter guilt…

And yet… They would _never_ use her middle name so _what did it matter_?

It was a nice tribute but not one he would have to face or think about every day.

“Can we have Iris?” he hesitated. “For her middle name?”

His mother would have liked that. Probably. _Maybe_.

He wasn’t entirely sure she would have liked the woman he had chosen to spend the rest of his life with. She might have learned to love Effie in time – everyone ended up loving Effie in time, she was annoying like that – but… Effie was an acquired taste, particularly to people from Districts. And his mother had always been very down-to-earth when Effie was… Well, she was a drama queen who always had to turn everything into a show in which she starred. That was part of her charms, as irritating as it sometimes was. However he wasn’t sure Iris would have seen that or understood his infatuation at once.

Effie’s face softened but she controlled it quickly enough that he couldn’t accuse her of pitying him. “Of course, darling! If you are certain…”

“We’re never gonna call her _that_ anyway.” he grumbled. “It’s just… It doesn’t feel that heavy as a middle name but it might be… nice.”

“Of course.” she repeated with a small smile. “So… Amaryllis Iris Abernathy.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Long name for such a small thing.”

“She won’t be small forever.” she reminded him. “Now for the boys… Do you want one of them to have Hayden for a middle name?”

That would be the logical choice, wouldn’t it?

But…

“How about Chaff?” he asked, a little too quiet maybe.

Effie didn’t bat an eyelash. “If you wish.”

He cleared his throat. “Doesn’t actually tell us how we’re gonna call them… Wanna hear what I thought of?”

“Hit me.” she invited with a grin. “Let’s do the C ones first.”

He wasn’t sure why he had let himself be convinced by her A B C names idea. It was cute on paper but seriously limited the possibilities. Although they had so much troubles agreeing on anything maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to narrow down the choices.

“Cameron.” he said.

He expected her to reject it flat out like she had rejected everything he had suggested so far. _Too Twelve, too simple, too unsophisticated…_

She made a low humming sound. “Oh, I do not _hate_ that, actually… Let’s put it in the _maybe_ column.” The maybe column was a last resort he had long decided would be useful just in case Steve _still_ couldn’t read an ultrasound properly and they were having more than three – his personal nightmare: he was pretty sure he would wake up ten years from then if he survived that war and still dread more than three kids were hiding in her uterus. If she didn’t declare herself in love with the name first thing, it was most likely not going to happen. “I have Cassianus. Cassius, if you prefer the short variant. Or Caius. I am less fond of that one, though.”

“Cassius ain’t the worst.” he granted.

She studied him for a second and snorted. “Such _enthusiasm_. Let’s think of something else.”

He smirked at her. “Camden.”

She pursed her lips. “No. Clovis?”

He made a face. “Definitely no.”

She lifted her hands and let them fall. “That is all I have for the C.”

“I’ve got a last one…” He paused just because she was impatient and it amused him. At least until she whacked him on the leg with the magazine. She didn’t hit hard, it didn’t even sting, but it made him smirk harder. He loved teasing her and he missed having her on hands all the time to distract him. “Caleb.”

“Caleb?” she repeated, testing the name out. “Why did I not think of it? _Caleb_.” She beamed. “I _love_ it. Do you know it means _heart_? Oh, I really should have thought about it sooner. Caleb Abernathy. Caleb Chaff Abernathy.” She was grinning so hard, he was ready to bet her mouth hurt. She looked down at her stomach and crooned. “Here you go, Baby C… You have a name now. And _such_ a nice one too… Do you like it?”

Her pregnant belly, unsurprisingly, didn’t answer.

Haymitch’s smirk softened into a fond smile and, when she looked up at him, so happy and glowing with it, he couldn’t help the pang of _love_ that squeezed his chest.

_Fuck_ , but it was dangerous to love her that bad, to love _them_ that bad…

“Caleb Abernathy.” He lifted his eyebrows. “That _does_ sound nice, yeah?”

“That’s two babies named. I am actually proud of us.” She chuckled. “Now to the B… Basilio. Basil is another variant. It means brave, by the way.”

He _so_ didn’t care one whip about the meaning of the names… But she was all about it.

“Basil…” He shrugged. “Basil Abernathy.”

It had a nice ring to it.

“Full disclosure, I went out with a Basilio once.” Effie said before he could actually get used to the idea.

And suddenly the name sounded awful. “Fine. That’s out, then.”

“You realize if we exclude all the names of people I have been adventurous with…” she hesitated. He lifted an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “Very well, then I will also rule out Belenos, which is _a shame_ because it means _beautiful_ and I _do_ like that name.” She struck both out from the margin of her magazine. “I _do_ think you are being _a little bit_ ridiculous for the record.”

“Humor me.” he deadpanned.

“Don’t I always?” she retorted with an innocent smile. “I did _kiss_ a Brantley once in high school. Should I cross it out even if it didn’t go any further than that or…”

“You can cross it out cause it’s an awful name.” he cut her off, his mouth stretching into his more familiar smirk. 

She pursed her lips and struck the name out with an irritated flick of her wrist. “Blythe?”

Not the worst by far from everything she had ever suggested but he still made a face. “I’ve only got the one name. I thought maybe Blake?”

She tilted her head, placing her hand on her left side where baby B was residing. She sounded weird. “Blake…”

“Fine, I get it, you don’t like it.” He snorted. “We’ll keep thinking.”

“No, it is not that.” she argued, shaking her head. “I really _do_ like it, actually… I like it _a lot_.”

“Well…” He frowned. “Sold, then. Blake Timotheo Abernathy.”

She winced. “I have a last name on the list though. I think I like it more than Blake.”

He groaned. “Please, don’t tell me it’s four syllables and I’m gonna hate it.”

“It is not a Capitol name.” She shot him an annoyed look. “Johanna suggested it.”

_“Johanna_ suggested it?” he scoffed. “The same Johanna who hates your guts?” He was treated to another _look_. This one, he elected _not_ to ignore because it was the one that meant she wanted to be serious and he was greatly irritating her. “ _Fine_. What did _Johanna Mason_ suggest we name our kid?”

“Brody.” she said, dropping the magazine.

He opened his mouth to dismiss it but closed it again because… Brody Abernathy. That rang even better than Blake Abernathy. “You know what… It’s actually…”

“Right?” she asked, hopeful. “I _do_ really like it…”

Her voice trailed off a little awkwardly and he sensed the trap.

“You _fucked_ a guy named Brody, didn’t you?” he guessed, resigned.

She pursed her lips. “Not that I am aware of and _do_ mind your language in front of your babies. No, it is not that… Do you remember she had a brother?”

“Do I remember the Capitol slaughtered her family cause she stabbed the first creep who tried to buy her?” he snorted. “ _Vividly_.” Finnick had thought it _very_ clever to bring her back to him directly in the penthouse through the Avox entrance so one would see them as if they could _really_ conceal the blood the girl had been covered in _or_ the corpse abandoned in an empty room at the hotel. Haymitch had been a little bit angry back then because both kids had mentors and he didn’t like being implicated in other people’s messes – because if Blight had _just_ better explained things to her… Well, what he hadn’t truly liked was that _Effie_ had been implicated in that mess because she had been right there and, of course, eager to help any way she could, not realizing that guilty by association was almost as bad as committing the crime herself. She was the one who had called Crane and appeased the situation as much as possible. “What has it got to do with… Oh _shit_ , _no_ , sweetheart. I ain’t telling Jo you want to name our kid by her dead brother’s name after she told you whatever sad story it was she…”

“She is aware I intend to use the name.” she cut him off.

And that brought him short. She had said Johanna had _suggested_ it, hadn’t she?

“Wait…” he scoffed dubiously. “You’re telling me she _suggested_ you name one of our sons after her dead brother? That’s…”

“No.” she interrupted again, blowing out an annoyed breath. “Let me _talk_ , would you? I asked her if she had any suggestion for names starting with a B, she offered Brody. She only told me afterwards it was her brother’s name. She said she did not mind us using it, though.”

“Right. And you _believed_ her?” he mocked.

Because there was a reason he didn’t want to be confronted to the ghost of his brother every time he called his son and he was _pretty_ _sure_ the same would go for Johanna. Every time they would talk about Brody or call him in front of her, it would be a twist of the knife in Jo’s heart and he didn’t want to be responsible for that.

“I think she meant it, actually.” Effie whispered. “And I know we said no dead people’s names but does it count if we did not know him? I really love _Brody_ and I think… I think she would be pleased.” She made a face. “And honestly ever since she said the name I have been thinking about Baby B as Brody…”

She was set on it, he could see.

And all pleading big blue eyes, too.

And Brody Abernathy _did_ sound good.

With a sigh, he caved.

“ _If_ she’s okay with it.” he grumbled. “I’m gonna check with her in the morning.”

Effie’s smile was so powerful he was pretty sure it could have powered District Thirteen for a whole month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The babies have names! \o/ And we even have names in case there are more lmao. Never say Haymitch doesn't plan ahead. Did you like the names? What did you think? Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> (I also published a prompt this week that we decided on tumblr could be read as a prequel to this story so I'm leaving the link here if you want to check it out ;) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10116318/853/Have-a-Drink-Sweetheart )


	18. Chapter 18

Effie was lying on her side as comfortably as she could with her pregnant stomach in the way. It was propped on cushions but it didn’t make it any more comfy, nothing was really comfortable anymore. Her body was huge and a bit foreign and there was always at least one baby kicking her.

She was drowsy but couldn’t quite fall asleep despite the dimmed lights. She blamed the drugs, the stress and the exhaustion. And the people who ran down the corridors at all hours of day and night because a new batch of rebel soldiers had come back wounded.

It had been weeks since the attack on the Capitol started and the city was apparently a giant trap, an arena that the rebels weren’t very good at navigating. Plutarch jokingly referred to it as the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games. She failed to see what was so funny about that.

When the door opened on Haymitch without warning, she fought the drowsiness as best as she could. She hadn’t seen him in days and he looked as tired as she felt. His uniform was creased beyond repairs as if he had been wearing it for days on end, his hair was sticking out in every direction, there were dark bags under his eyes, the beard was so unkempt… And yet the mere sight of him was enough to make a lump appear in her throat.

“I told them not to call you.” she whispered, her voice slightly raw. She had screamed a little earlier. And cried. From pain and from terror and… She had been scared and she had felt _so_ alone… Annie had held her hand through it all and Jo had lurked in the room until it was over, skimming through the pink romance book Effie now knew by heart since it was her only shield against boredom…

“Yeah, and I told Steve if anything happened to you and they didn’t notify me immediately, I’d kill him. Guess we finally know which one of us scares him most.” He was scowling when he crossed the room in long strides to take the visitor chair. He dragged it closer to the bed so he could brush her tangled hair back. The tender look on his face was so unguarded… “You look like _shit_.”

“I am fine.” She closed her eyes instead of berating him for his language, giving herself to the gentle petting of her hair. So soothing, so reassuring… That was what she had craved earlier when she had had to content herself with squeezing Annie’s fingers until the girl had winced.

“You _don’t_ look fine.” he grumbled, gruff and soft at the same time. “What happened? Steve beeped me a few times but I couldn’t get away. There’s a _fucking_ …” The softness had turned to anger so fast that she opened her eyes to watch him but he shoved all that away, schooled his expression before she could press. He started stroking her cheek. “What happened? You’re okay? The babies?”

She licked her lips. They were dry and she sort of wanted a glass of water but was too tired to bother. The drip kept her hydrated anyway. And drowsy, probably, because she wasn’t as awake as she would have liked.

“Caleb was awfully fussy this morning…” she explained slowly. “And you know he is the nicest of the three...” Her hand fell on top of her stomach by reflex and she slowly caressed the approximate spot where the third baby was, sandwiched between his brother and sister. “He kicked so much…”

Haymitch’s hand left her cheek to cover hers. “They didn’t beep me five times ‘cause Caleb kicked, sweetheart.”

The chiding wasn’t entirely reproachful but it was impatient.

“Five times?” she noted. Five times and he hadn’t come sooner? She knew he was busy in Command and she had told them to leave him to his work, not to distract him, but… If they had beeped him _five_ times, why hadn’t…

Guilt and that weird anger flashed on his face. “There’s something I had to deal with. I knew they’d take care of you. _I_ had to take care of…” He ran his hand in his hair and shook his head. “Tell me what happened.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what would come before her – because nobody quite thought like him when it came to Tactics but Plutarch could pick up the slack for an hour or two. The only thing that would keep him away from her when she was in need…

“What is wrong with the children?” she immediately worried. She tried to sit up but the shot of pain in her lower belly reminded her she better stay put, so she did just that. “Is it Katniss? Is she…”

“Katniss is _fine_.” he promised. No hesitation. _And yet_ …

“Do you _truly_ think you can still lie to me after all this time?” she hissed. “Do you think…”

“Katniss is breathing, safe, and extremely pissed.” he amended. “I just got off the phone with her.”

“What happened?” she insisted.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with right now.” he countered. “Why do you look like death warmed over?”

She stared at him to make him cave but he held her gaze calmly until she eventually was the one to give up. She was too tired for power games. Too tired for a lot of this. She felt it down to her bones this time.

“I had contractions.” she confessed, closing her eyes and hugging her stomach tight. Haymitch’s hand soothingly stroke it, as if he wanted to appease the babies. “They said it was early labor contractions, not just a false alarm. It was… It was _really_ painful. Annie was here when it started so she stayed with me. And Johanna came looking for her after an hour or two and she stayed too. It was nice of them.”

“Sure, real nice.” Haymitch dismissed, worry and fear creeping in his voice. “Your water didn’t break? It’s over, right? The contractions? Cause you’re _barely_ seven months pregnant. Ain’t sure the babies would...”

“Survive?” she finished, sounding as shaky as she felt. “They told me it was unlikely. We need to get _at least_ to the eight months mark. More is better.” She swallowed hard. “They gave me something to stop the contractions but it didn’t work immediately and… They said my body was getting ready to give birth… There was blood.” She shook her head a little, cut to the chase. “We almost lost Caleb.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “But… We didn’t, yeah? He’s still… He’s here.”

His hand settled on top of her stomach.

“For now.” She tried not to let the tears win but a few slipped down her cheeks anyway. “If it happens again…”

Haymitch looked torn but suddenly his face closed. “You need to… You’re stressing too much.”

“This is not _my_ fault.” she snapped, unable to suppress a tiny sob.

He startled, his grey eyes falling on her face. “Of course, it ain’t _your_ fault. I didn’t mean…” His hand left her stomach to brush the tears off her cheeks. “This is such a _fucking_ mess… Today is such a _fucking_ mess…” He was talking to himself mostly, she thought, so she didn’t say anything when he slowly bend down until his forehead was pressed against her stomach. His hands framed it and she could felt their warmth through the thin cotton of the hospital gown. “You hold on, babies. We ain’t losing _any_ of you, you hear? _Fuck_ that. _Fuck that_. I’m seeing you all through this war in one piece if it kills me.”

She rested her hand on his head, pretending she couldn’t see how unsteady her fingers were. “Tell me what happened with Katniss…”

He hesitated. So long and so hard that she knew he didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to _upset_ her.

She also knew the precise moment he made the choice to lie again because his body tensed a second before he drew his head back from her stomach. Her hand slipped from his hair to his cheek and she unconsciously retraced the line of his cheekbone with her thumb. He had lost more weight recently and she hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t taking care of himself properly, not since Katniss had been gone. And it had been weeks.

“One of the people in her squad got killed.” he explained. “But she’s fine.”

She very much doubted Katniss was _fine_. Alive, perhaps. Fine, was another matter entirely.

Victors and their weird standards…

“The Star Squad is _not_ supposed to do anything dangerous.” she argued.

“Yeah.” Haymitch scoffed, his voice a bit clipped. “I’m trying to keep it that way.”

She searched his face. “She is making her move.”

She didn’t need to be more precise than this. He would get who she was talking about and she didn’t want to risk being more direct, in case they were being listened to. She was _certain_ they were being listened to. She was not new to the game of politics. _Hell_ … She was a queen at that game.

And Coin was too much like Snow for her liking.

It had been bound to happen at one point or another…

Katniss was useful up to a point but Coin couldn’t have everyone in Panem associating the rebellion sorely to the girl. _She_ needed to become the _savior_ or…

Haymitch nodded once, almost reluctantly.

“What else?” she insisted.

“Nothing else.” he answered, flat out.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “I can always tell when you lie to me. We do _not_ lie to each other, Haymitch.”

“You almost lost our baby today.” he growled. “You don’t need to have more on your plate. I don’t want you stressing about this, I’m handling it.”

“ _Are_ you?” she challenged. “Is she _letting_ you handle it?”

He didn’t say anything and he averted his eyes, which was all she needed to guess just how much he was allowed to handle their Mockingjay nowadays.

She didn’t try to sit up again even though she really wanted to. She tried to remain calm because getting worked up wouldn’t help anything or anyone and certainly not the three babies she was growing. “What is it you do not want to tell me and that is worse than Katniss being sent to a dangerous location?”

Haymitch looked like he wanted to lie again but thought better of it. He let out a long breath and leaned his cheek into her hand with a pleading expression. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna upset you and I don’t want you upset. Please. I’m… I’m doing all I can from here to make sure it goes well. That’s _my_ job. _Your_ job is to rest and cook those babies up for another two months.”

She blinked, tired but not tired enough not to be insulted. “Are you saying I am _just_ an incubator now? How very _Thirteen_ of you.”

“Don’t twist my words.” he grumbled but she still took her hand off his face to tuck it back under the sheets. She also tucked the sheets over her body so he lost access to her stomach. He slumped back on the chair, clearly irritated but, perhaps, too exhausted to properly fight her over it. “Effie, I’m telling you… You’re better off not worrying about any of this. It’s a just a matter of days before we take the city now… A week or two, tops. We’re almost there. Once it’s over…”

“You do realize anything you are hiding from me I will easily find out tomorrow.” she cut him off. “What Annie does not know, Johanna most likely will. Never mind the nurses. Soldiers talk a lot and I am very good at being friendly with nurses. I have all the gossip.”

He rubbed his face. “Why do you always have to be so _fucking_ difficult? Why can’t you trust that I _fucking_ know best…”

“Because they are my children too!” she snapped, raising her voice for the first time. “Am I worried about Katniss and Finnick? _Yes_. Constantly. Will not knowing _what_ is happening when _I know_ there _is_ something happening help me _not_ worry about them? _No_. It won’t. _They are mine too_ so _bloody_ tell me already!”

For a minute, she thought he would argue with her. Then his shoulders slumped and he just sat there, defeated. “You keep breathing regularly when I tell you. You don’t _fucking_ panic. You don’t _fucking_ lose one of our babies over this ‘cause if that happens I’m gonna kill someone, you hear? _I’m handling it_. Everything’s gonna be alright. I’ve had a talk with Katniss. She knows what to expect. Hopefully, she does the clever thing. And Finnick’s there too and he won’t let anything bad happen. Are we good?”

Oh, that was definitely worse than she had imagined…

She was ready to bet Coin had named the Star Squad the lead squadron or something like that, that they were the one being sent straight into the most dangerous zones of the battlefield. That woman wouldn’t be crazy enough to make them an infiltration team to assassinate Snow, _would she_?

She was getting worked up and she had promised she wouldn’t.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, gently rubbing her stomach. The contractions had long stopped and the thing they had injected her with was working but they had warned her it wasn’t a miracle remedy. Labor could start again. Perhaps Haymitch had the right idea of it. Perhaps it was best for her not to know.

Perhaps she should just ask to be sedated until the war was over. A matter of days… A week or two at most… It was almost _tempting_.

“Alright…” she breathed out slowly. “Alright, tell me.”

Haymitch watched her for a long time. He was so reluctant to tell her, so certain she was going to be upset…

He opened her mouth and suddenly _she knew_.

“Peeta.” she whispered. 

He closed his mouth, his features twisting into that angry expression again. “He was gone before I was even notified. She wouldn’t listen to me _or_ Plutarch.”

“She wants them to kill each other…” she figured, horrified. “Either Peeta kills Katniss and _she_ becomes the rebellion figurehead or Katniss kills Peeta and the optics will be so bad it is practically the same thing. Never mind what it will do to the girl or…” She shook her head. “We _cannot_ have Peeta… They will _kill_ _each_ _other_ , Haymitch.”

“No, they won’t.” Haymitch said firmly, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Listen to me… _Listen to me_.” She was still shaking her head but she stopped at his commanding tone, met his eyes… “They _love_ each other. Katniss might be slow on the uptake but she’s gonna realize it eventually. She _ain’t_ gonna kill him.”

“Of course, she won’t.” Effie murmured. “He is stronger than her. He almost _strangled_ her.”

“He’s been making progress though.” he countered. “He hasn’t attacked _me_ in months. He’s more lucid. I’m thinking… I’m thinking this might be good, maybe it’s the breakthrough he needs. Katniss might get to him and…”

“What if he attacks Katniss and the rest of the squad decides to _shoot_ him out of _loyalty_?” she snapped.

“That’s why it’s a good thing Finnick’s there.” he argued. “Finnick won’t let anything happen to Peeta _or_ Katniss.”

“And what happens if something happens to _Finnick_?” she insisted. “Annie is pregnant, you know. She told me yesterday.”

He hadn’t known. Shock registered on his face. “ _Seriously_? Why…”

“We inspired them.” she dismissed. “They wanted one too. And they thought it would be good for all the babies to grow up together so they would always have someone they could rely on, like a big family. They did not want to waste another minute.”

He slumped a little in the chair. “ _Shit_.”

“I hate this.” she muttered, folding on herself as much as she could, curling around her stomach as if it would help her protect the only babies she could reach. “I hate _all_ of this.”

“It’s gonna be over soon.” he sighed.

Yes, but the question was: who would be left alive at the end?

“They have been through enough.” Her voice broke and she closed her eyes, fighting tears again. “They deserve _better_ than this. Why can’t they catch a break? Why can’t they be left _alone_?”

“Hey.” Haymitch called out softly, sliding the chair as close to the bed as he could. He had to sit sideways so he could prop an elbow behind her head. When she opened her eyes, his face was all she could see because he was bent over her. “I know it ain’t all about the kids.”

It _should_ be. Peeta and Katniss were her – _their_ – responsibility and, right now, they were the ones in real danger. But…

She did her best to keep her lips from wobbling. “I don’t want to lose any of them, Haymitch.”

“I know.” he said and she tried to turn her head so he wouldn’t see… “Hey. Look at me. Princess, look at me.” She did what he asked, tears and all. He bowed down further to brush a gentle kiss against her forehead. “It’s all out of our control and that’s scary as _shit_.”

Despite everything, she snorted. “Always so eloquent.”

He snorted right back, brushing another kiss on her lips. “I _fucking_ swear to you I’m gonna get our kids back.”

“You never make that kind of promises.” she reminded him. He never told tributes they would win, he always told them they were going to die. Lying to them to make them feel better, to give them hope, had always been _her_ job. And this was what it felt like right then. A lie.

“I’m gonna get them back even if I’ve got to steal a gun and go there myself.” he insisted.

“I _forbid_ you to do that.” she growled. She knew him. He was just stupid and brave enough to do it, too. “I need you here. I need you _alive_.” He opened his mouth but she cut him off by gripping his chin. “One of us has to stay alive to raise the babies.”

He startled and recoiled. “The _fuck_ are you talking about? _You_ ain’t…”

“This pregnancy is risky.” she cut him off. They had never talked about that. They had both preferred to ignore the possibility – and she was still keen on pretending the possibility didn’t exist but… “If I do not make it…”

“Effie, if you don’t make it, do you _really_ think _I’_ m gonna be in _any_ state to take care of three babies?” he mocked.

“You will _have_ to.” she stated. “Because you do not have any next of kin and I _refuse_ to have my mother raising them.”

“Effie.” he growled. “We ain’t talking about _that_. _That_ ain’t happening.”

“If it _does_ happen…” she insisted.

“Effie, _don’t_.” he snarled in a way that told her the discussion was over and he didn’t want to hear any more about it. It was also three _Effies_ in three sentences. He never called her by her name until it was deadly serious. His breathing was hard and labored and she wasn’t surprised when he dipped his head down to force a kiss on her mouth. It wasn’t a nice kiss by any stretch of the imagination, certainly not the kind of kiss you gave a woman who had almost had a miscarriage that very day. It made every part of her tingle. And it was just what she needed to settle her nerves. “We’re gonna make it.” he vowed against her lips. “You, me, the babies _and_ the kids.”

“I think it would _kill_ me to lose one of them…” she whispered. “When they told me Baby C was at serious risk…”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers. She could feel the weight of his body on part of hers and it was soothing. He was careful not to crush her stomach though. It couldn’t be comfortable for him but he didn’t move. “Next time they beep me…”

“The children come first.” she interrupted. “I can take care of those three by myself for now.”

He pecked her lips again, a nicer softer kiss, and then drew back but only so much that he could tug the sheet down and carefully press his ear to her stomach. There wasn’t much to hear or feel but he still stroke it.

“No more scaring Mama, babies.” he chided them.

“Or Papa.” she added.

“Or Papa.” he mumbled, turning his head to brush a kiss on her stomach.

She supposed it was progress that the word didn’t send him into a panic.

Or perhaps it was just proof that they had worse things to panic about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things just got more stressssfull... Are you ready for next week? Next week might be a touuuuch emotional. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know your thoughts!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might need some hot chocolate and a blanket for this one ;)

The hospital corridors were always buzzing with people those days, even in the middle of the night. Soldiers were being brought back in pieces. The city and its defenses made more damages than Peacekeepers and their guns.

Haymitch barely saw any of it though.

He barely registered the doctors and the nurses hurrying along or the gurneys being rolled past, the soldiers who twisted and wriggled in pain, the blood, the missing limbs, the _smell_ … All he could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other, the sounds were muffled because all he could hear was the memory of Annie’s sobs…

Johanna seemed equally lost in her own headspace. She followed him but didn’t talk.

She hadn’t cried yet.

Not when Haymitch had sat her down to tell her.

Not when they had both showed up at Annie’s door.

Not when the girl had crumbled, collapsing in his clumsy embrace…

Suddenly, too soon, they were at Effie’s hospital room and he paused in front of the closed door. He had never wanted to turn heels and run more than he did in that moment, not even in the first few days of her pregnancy, not even in his arena.

If he had been able to get away with never telling her, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He would have protected her from the news as long as possible and not only because she had almost had a miscarriage less than a week earlier. She needed rest and calm and peace but she would get none of that in this hell. And now he was about to bring the world down on her when he had sworn, _he had sworn,_ he would make sure all the kids survived to see the end of the war.

She had known he was fishing, of course. It had been all over her face. She hadn’t believed him. And she had been right. As always.

He couldn’t keep the news from her though. There was no way. He had shielded her from the truth as long as he had been able to. He hadn’t told her the squad had gone AWOL or that they were presumed dead. But _this_ … It was too big. It would be public knowledge soon enough.

He stared at the closed door and stalled, granted her – and himself – a few minutes of reprieve. There was no unknowing this once it was said. There was a before and an after.

And it would only be the first of many more.

You would think you got used to death, to losing people, and you _did_. Haymitch had hardened himself, he automatically became angry faced with that sort of news because it was the easiest way to deal with it, but, he had found out, it was much more difficult to ignore the pain when you didn’t have a glass in your hand. 

“You should… Can you wait here while I…” he told Jo, forcing the words out.

“Yeah.” Johanna grumbled, slipping her hands in her pockets and leaning against the wall. She wasn’t meeting his gaze. She glared at her boots instead.

He wanted to offer comfort but he wasn’t sure how to.

Nothing anyone had ever said had made _him_ feel better about death.

With a nod of thanks, he slowly pushed the door open, relieved and sad all at once to find Effie asleep. Relieved because it meant she didn’t see him walk in and read everything on his face, which would give him time to properly school it; sad because she looked peaceful and he was about to shatter that.

He slowly, reluctantly, made his way to the bed and, once he was there, he ignored the chair to sit directly on the mattress, in the space between her hip and the edge. He could barely fit but it was better than doing this from the chair. She would need him to hold her, he already knew, and he sort of needed her to hold him back anyway.

Her eyelids fluttered open before he even touched her. She had never been a heavy sleeper even though pregnancy generally tended to make her slumber deeper than usual. She smiled when she spotted him, still half-asleep as she was, and he made an effort, a _huge_ effort, to school his features into something blank, something that wouldn’t scream _pain_.

“Is it morning already?” she hummed.

“No, not yet, princess.” he answered, keeping his voice low.

His hand found her belly and slowly roamed around. It had become habit to search for random little feet hitting her or maybe even one of the babes having the hiccups. He could feel them so well now… It scared him most days. But days like today, it felt like a tiny miracle that he got to feel it at all, that he would get to hold them when they were born, that he would soon have three terrifying bundles of joy that he would watch grow up. A miracle he was _fucking_ grateful for.

“Are you on a break?” she asked, still sounding mostly sleepy. “I have not seen you in a couple of days…”

He hadn’t been able – or _willing_ – to escape Command with the kids missing. And he hadn’t dared face her either, confess he had lost them…

There was no easy way to tell her.

He had eased Annie into it, had _tried_ to, at least. And Johanna had uncharacteristically been helpful for once. Then again, he supposed Annie was primary her responsibility now – not that he would turn his back on the girl but Jo would feel that way, he figured, if Chaff had had a wife and a baby on the way when he died, Haymitch would have been first in line to make sure she had everything she needed and was safe. Best friends worked like that.

“I’ve got news.” he finally managed to utter, after licking his lips twice. He cupped her cheek, let his hand trail down until he had a loose grip on the back of her neck… “It’s not good news.”

She was entirely awake now.

She stared at him, _studied_ him until something simply… _gave_ in her blue eyes. Their light dimmed. “Who?”

“The squad has been missing for a few days. They got cut from us and… They’re behind enemy lines. We can’t…” he started to explain.

“Haymitch.” she interrupted. “ _Who_?”

“Katniss is alive.” he said, swallowing hard. “There’s footage of her and Cressida.” Relief flashed on her face but it was short-lived. She was waiting so he forced the words out. “There’s one confirmed dead. It’s on the footage. Everyone else… Everyone else, I don’t know.”

Her lips wobbled but she batted her eyelids and her eyes remained dry.

He squeezed her nape as a meager offer of comfort.

“Who is dead, Haymitch?” she whispered, her voice raw and hard. “Is it… Is it Peeta?”

“No, sweetheart…” His own voice broke and he cleared his throat but it did him little good. His eyes had been burning for hours but he wouldn’t let the tears fall. Not when so many people needed him to hold it together. “No, sweetheart, it ain’t Peeta.”

He let her do the math. It was cowardly, perhaps, but he couldn’t really _say_ it again. And if it wasn’t Katniss and it wasn’t Peeta… It only left one other option for whom he would wake her up in the middle of the night.

She closed her eyes and brought her hands to her face, sucking a hard breath in. She was trying _so hard_ to fight the grief, to _contain_ it… He opened his arms. “Come here.”

It was easier said than done and he had to help her sit up, her stomach was truly in the way, but the moment his arms closed around her, she burst into uneven sobs.

“It is _unfair_.” she mumbled. “He is going to have a child. _It is unfair_.”

“I know.” It was all he could say. He buried his face in her neck but he didn’t let go of his composure. It would have been easy to. And he _wanted_ to. _Fuck_ , he wanted to. He didn’t mind being vulnerable with her the way he minded with everyone else. He _trusted_ her. He trusted her _entirely_. And his head was full of random memories of the kid, ranging from when he had been fourteen and still so _goddamn_ innocent despite it all to more recent events. He had been the first to offer support to Haymitch when the pregnancy news had broken out. He was the first victor Haymitch had taken under his wing. He was… But he couldn’t give in to the tears or the grief that wanted to strangle him. Because if he let his emotions run loose now… There was still too much to do. “I _know_ , princess.”

“ _Finnick_ …” she tried to say but she could _barely_ get the name out. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, bundled his shirt in her fists. “Annie… Have you…”

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “I know you’re upset. I know you’re sad. But you can’t get too worked up, alright? You’ve got to breathe. Cause the babies…”

“I know.” she snapped and made an effort to suck in a breath only to start sobbing again. It was several minutes before she was able to talk again. He spent them petting her hair and trying to convince himself he didn’t need a drink as badly as he felt he did. “The others… You said… You said you did not know… What… What happened?”

He couldn’t tell her about the lizard mutts. He couldn’t tell her he wasn’t sure if Finnick had already been dead or not when Katniss had detonated that holo and that he wasn’t sure which option would have been the most merciful either way because, one way or the other, Finnick had to have known he was going to die, have to have felt it happen, and that was the worst way to go. The surveillance footage they had wasn’t clear enough for details and that was his excuse. He kept it vague. “An explosion. Like I said, though… They’re deep in the city. If they hide… We’re almost there. We’re almost at the City Circle. We’ll find them, sweetheart.”

She was silent for a while, nothing but the sobs she was trying to swallow back. Then she worked it out. “She will try to reach Snow. Haymitch…”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Knowing Katniss, that’s likely. But I’m gonna find her first. I’m gonna find them _both_. Peeta ain’t dead. I _ain’t_ believing it until I’ve got a body in front of me, okay? I’m gonna _find_ them.” He dropped another kiss on her neck, on her shoulder, on her wet cheek… “That’s the other thing, sweetheart… The city’s almost ours. Command’s moving to the Capitol.”

She drew back and shook her head. “No. _No, no, no_ … You _cannot_ … It is the front lines! You _cannot_ go to the front lines, Haymitch! It is too dangerous… Too…”

He let go of her to frame her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Breathe.” He waited until she had it back under control to speak again. The terror in her eyes didn’t go away though. “I’m gonna be with Coin and all the important hotshots of this rebellion. It’s gonna be the safest place in Panem. It’s done, princess. The war’s over. All that’s left is for Snow to surrender. The Capitol’s almost ours. I don’t want you to worry about me cause I’m gonna be just fine.”

She grabbed his wrists. “What if he decides to blow up the city rather than give it up?”

It wasn’t funny at all and yet a sad smile touched his lips. “I asked the same thing…” It never ceased to amaze him how they could be of one mind sometimes… _She_ didn’t look amused or amazed and he shook his head. “He doesn’t have the fire power anymore. We’ve got most of the defenses neutralized. Won’t be in the city proper, anyway. Command’s gonna be on the outskirts until the Presidential Mansion is secured.” Her blue eyes were full of tears and he leaned in to kiss away the drops that rolled on her cheeks. Then he pressed a kiss on her lips. “It’s better for us if I go. I can make sure the kids are safe when I find them.”

“If they are still alive when you do.” she remarked, her gaze dropping to her stomach. She placed her hands on either side of it. “I cannot lose anyone else, Haymitch. _Finnick_ , that’s…” Her face crumpled in pain but she swallowed it back. “I _cannot_ lose _you_. The babies… They need you. _I_ need you. Do _not_ be a hero.”

“When have I _ever_ been a hero, sweetheart?” he mocked gently, trying to reassure her. He placed his hands on top of hers. “I hate that I’m gonna have to leave you here, though.”

“I will be fine.” she promised. “We will be fine.”

“Yeah…” He wasn’t entirely convinced. He glanced at the half-open door and then lowered his voice even more, just in case the place was bugged. He didn’t put anything past Coin. Her methods… Her methods were _very_ familiar. “Listen, Jo’s waiting outside. She agreed to stay with you while I’m gone.”

He hadn’t even been forced to argue long to convince her. He didn’t know if it was because they had decided to call their son Brody and she now felt a sort of responsibility toward him or if it was just that she had realized Effie wasn’t actually that bad, but… Johanna hadn’t even needed him to explain _why_ he wanted her to play bodyguard. She had just said she would keep his spawns safe.

He wasn’t fond of her calling his babies _spawns_ but he would take it if that meant she would protect them.

“Shouldn’t she be with Annie?” Effie frowned. “I… I really feel… Well, not _fine_ , but there is no pain…” She shook her head. “I will call a nurse if…”

“That ain’t why I’m leaving you with her.” he cut her off, barely speaking above a murmur. “From now on, you do what she says. If she decides it’s better to sneak you out of Thirteen, you follow her. Understood?”

She stared at him long and hard. “Do you think I will _need_ to sneak out of Thirteen?”

He winced. “Don’t _think_ so. But I’d rather have a contingency plan, just in case.” He shook his head. “The moment the Capitol’s safe, I’m getting the three of you out of this District. There’s gonna be plenty of medical hovercrafts coming over to help anyway. You can hitch a ride. I’ve already worked it out with Steve, he ain’t please but I think he gets it.”

“Is that safe? For the babies?” she worried. “I am not supposed to leave the bed…”

“It’s a medical hovercraft, it should be safe enough.” he insisted. “Effie… I don’t want you on the other side of the country if things go south.” She would be the perfect pressure point and Thirteen was Coin’s territory. He wasn’t serving her the mother of his children on a plate. “They’re already making plans for people who were involved in the Games… I don’t like half of what I heard.”

_Executions_.

He wasn’t necessarily opposed to those people getting what was due to them but _mass executions_? Without trials? Gamemakers were one thing but… The escorts, the stylists and the prep teams… It was another category entirely. Some of them deserved at least a chance to defend themselves… Some of them weren’t _monsters_. He had tried to explain that but…

“But I was here during all the rebellion…” she whispered. “I _helped_. Plutarch said I had immunity.”

“You _do_. That was part of my demands when I joined.” he promised and she relaxed. “But I don’t trust anyone further than I can throw them, sweetheart, not even Plutarch. Also, from now on, anyone asks your name, you give mine. As far as everyone’s concerned, we’re _married_. Don’t go _anywhere_ without Jo, even if they try to force you or it seems safe enough.” He shook his head. “Look, I ain’t trying to scare you. I’m probably just being paranoid…”

“In all the years I have known you, you have never been _just_ paranoid.” she argued, wiping her cheeks. A new sort of resolve straightened her spine. Her hands protectively cradled her stomach. “They will not execute your wife, particularly if she is pregnant with you children.”

“Exactly.” he approved. 

She nodded.

His communicuff beeped. He glanced at it and back at her. “I’ve got to go. The hovercraft’s about to leave.”

Her resolve seemed to crumble a little. “I do not like you leaving.”

“I don’t like going.” he replied. “Look… It’s a couple of days. I go, I find our kids and then we can finally stop living underground. Won’t that be nice? Being above grounds? You can get a window in your room… Get some sun…”

She forced a smile for his sake but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you think my apartment is still there?”

“No clue. I’ll check when I can.” he offered. “If it’s not, we’ll find somewhere else.”

“Perhaps we will have time to get a nursery ready before I give birth.” she said, clinging to his hands. He really needed to go but it was plain to see she was scared and sad and wanted the moment to last that little bit longer so he stayed where he was. He could give her another minute. “They should have nice things, our babies, Haymitch. It is not their fault the world is so ugly. I want them to have nice things…” 

“Sure.” he humored her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re gonna get a nursery ready with pretty things. Toys, cribs, the whole shebang.” He kissed her lips next, a long peck that was a little desperate. “Gotta go.” He hesitated only a second before bowing over her stomach and pressing three kisses there. “Be nice for Mama. Don’t play naughty tricks making her think she’s gonna pop too soon.” He kissed her one last time, too fast and too brief but he was scared he would never find the strength to leave otherwise and he _needed_ to. He needed to because Katniss and Peeta needed him. “I...”

His jaw clamped shut.

“I love you too.” she whispered.

He briefly closed his eyes, relieved that she got it, and then tore himself away from her.

“Haymitch?” she asked when he was at the door. He paused and looked back at her, hoping it wasn’t the last image he would keep of her: her sitting on that hospital bed, looking too small for such a big thing now, frail and pale with puffy blue eyes. “Once the Capitol surrenders and you find the children… Do you think… Do you think you can find out if my family is alright too?”

Her family…

It wouldn’t even have occurred to him to look.

“I will.” He nodded. In fact, he would put Plutarch on that as soon as he reached the hovercraft. “Be safe.”

_Be smart_ , he didn’t say.

“Stay alive.” she answered back.

And that made him smirk.

War was a sort of arena, he supposed, so maybe it was appropriate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooooorry, okay? I don't make the ruleeeeees... And yes ok now I really want to write something where Finnick lives :p Please don't hate me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway. Let me know!


	20. Chapter 20

It was weird how days could sometimes be quantified only in hours.

It had been two days since Haymitch’s visit when the news started trickling in her hospital room but Effie couldn’t have told anyone who asked for the time. Those days had been endless _hours_ of waiting in silence with Johanna scowling at the floor. Annie had joined them at some point, eyes glassy, unresponsive to their soft questions. She had taken the visitor chair, Jo had decided to sit directly on the floor, Effie had stayed in bed and had pretended she hadn’t seen Seven’s victor sneak a scalpel into her sleeve and that she didn’t know a few syringes had already been secured away in her pockets. Makeshift weapons that might had been dismissed as ridiculous for anyone who didn’t know just how formidable a victor could be with an improvised arsenal.

Then the news started trickling in.

The Capitol surrendering first and foremost.

Nobody needed to tell them because there was a cheer, a collective cheer that seemed to shake the whole District, the only uncollected moment she had ever witnessed in that military place.

The rebellion had won.

The Districts were free.

No more Hunger Games.

Children would be safe forevermore.

Effie placed her hands on her stomach and, despite the grief, despite the worry, she _smiled_. She barely noticed the tears slipping down her cheeks. She held out her hand to Annie who squeezed it, meeting her eyes, strangely present in the moment for the first time in hours. Words weren’t necessary. They _knew_. Finnick’s death was terrible but it was not in vain. This was possible in part thanks to him.

Johanna didn’t say anything and didn’t join them even when Effie outstretched her other hand to her. The young victor was still sitting on the floor, head pressed against the wall at her back, eyes closed tight, jaw clenched as if she was fighting the urge to cry…

Effie would have gone to her if she had been able to move with any ease but Annie beat her to it. She sat down next to Johanna, wrapped her arms around her even when Jo protested and held tight when Seven’s victor finally broke down.

It was strangely solemn a moment in their room, a sharp contrast with the cheering sounds that resonated everywhere else.

It was two hours before they heard about the City Circle.

A nurse came in to check on Effie and told them all about it.

Effie and Annie both clenched at their stomachs, the horror of it all brought in ever sharper focus by the lives growing inside them. Johanna was raving by the time the woman was done reporting what she had heard, insulting the Capitol. Effie couldn’t say anything in defense of the city. That Snow would be so practical as to gather children to use as a human shield, she could _entirely_ believe it, but that he would be cruel enough to bomb _them_ out of spite when it was so obvious he had lost? _Capitol_ children? It was… Perhaps he had finally gone insane. Perhaps…

There was no official update about the Mockingjay, her husband or the rest of the star squad.

Effie told herself to wait, forcing her breathing to remain regular even when she could do nothing but worry.

It was Annie who found out Aster Everdeen had been summoned to the Capitol as a matter of immediate emergency, a couple of hours later.

Still no official stance from the rebels on the Mockingjay’s status.

It was Steve who brought news in the end. Not only news but a tablet on which Haymitch’s grainy image was waiting. He looked like he had aged ten years since she had last seen him. Annie and Johanna gathered on either side of her, perching on the bed to see the screen while Steve busied himself giving orders to a nurse for transport… _Her transport_.

“The children?” was the first thing Effie asked, bypassing _hellos_ and any pleasantries.

_He_ was obviously alive and that was the only other thing she cared about.

Haymitch forced a smile. _“Peeta’s alright. A few scrapes but nothing serious. Hawthorne and Cressida made it too. Katniss…”_ His voice trailed off and his eyes shifted away from the camera. _“Katniss is still alive. I’m about to make a statement, I’m the only victor on hand, so…”_

That was a weird way of formulating it. _Still alive_.

Why had he had Aster Everdeen flown over the country first thing – _before her_ – if…

“Is she okay?” Johanna insisted on her left, probably sensing the same thing she did. Something _wasn’t_ right and Katniss was probably _not_ alright.

_“She’s…”_ Haymitch stopped and let out a long breath. He rubbed his face. Even through the grainy image and the bad connection she could see his hands were shaking badly. The tremors hadn’t been _that_ bad before he had left… “ _Did someone explain what happened at the City Circle?”_

“Yes.” Effie whispered. “That’s awful.”

_“Awful’s a word for it.”_ Haymitch snarled, his fury slipping through the exhaustion for a second. Then it was all buried deep inside behind his much more familiar act of an aloof victor who enjoyed a good sarcastic word now and then. _“Katniss was there.”_

“What do you mean she was there?” Effie panicked. “Was she… Was she injured?”

_“She was far enough away. At least until the second salvo.”_ he explained.

She frowned. “Second salvo?” 

“They just said they bombed the children.” Annie added, her hands on her barely noticeable baby bump.

“ _Yeah, that’s a little more complicated than that…”_ He sighed. _“Anyway… The thing is… Katniss was running toward the second explosion when it happened…”_ He stopped again, shook his head. Effie wondered just how long it had been since he had slept. “ _She’s injured, yeah. Bad burns. It ain’t… It ain’t good. It was touch and go for a while. She’s stable now. It should be okay in the long run. That’s why we waited to tell people about her, why I wanted to be sure before I called you.”_

Effie pressed her hand against her mouth.

It was the only way to prevent the scream that built in her chest.

_Burned_? The girl on fire?

“How bad is it, really?” she insisted.

_“They have her in a sort of tank full of sticky stuff.”_ he told her. _“It’s… We’re looking at weeks of recovery and that’s with Capitol technology. Multiple skin grafts.”_ He swallowed hard. _“The physical aspect ain’t what worries me, the doctors seem competent and willing to help. She’s gonna… Look, I need you here.”_

His pleading tone was a rare one, never mind with witnesses.

“Why was this brainless idiot running _to_ an explosion scene?” Johanna scoffed.

Effie watched, helpless, as on screen Haymitch slouched, his shoulders dropping as if someone had cut all the strings keeping him sitting straight.

_“Because…”_ he said, his voice rough and raw like always when he was dealing with emotions he would prefer to treat with liquor. _“Because she saw her sister.”_ He was silent for a second and then met her eyes. _“Prim didn’t make it. Sweetheart, I need you here.”_

He didn’t need her here for Katniss or Aster or even Peeta, she realized suddenly, through the shock and the sadness.

“I am coming.” she promised. “Do _not_ touch a _single_ drop.” He hesitated, licked his lips and then nodded. But he didn’t say anything. “Haymitch.” She said it _firmly_. “Our babies deserve _your best._ ”

It was harsh and she hated playing the babies card but she knew he would despise himself if he gave in to the alcohol now. And it would only be more painful in the long run. She knew him. He wouldn’t want to be around the babies if he was drunk. He would have to get sober again. And he wouldn’t be able to go through that nightmare a second time.

_“I know.”_ he finally admitted. _“The Capitol… It ain’t a pretty sight. Wanted to wait a couple more days before I got you here but…_ ”

“I am on my way.” she promised. _Literally_ if the way Steve was impatiently waiting was any indication. “I will see you soon.”

She handed the tablet back, her ears still ringing from the shock of it all. Prim… She was so young… She had been training with the medic unit but she shouldn’t have been _anywhere_ near the front lines. And to think Prim would have found herself _right_ where Katniss was? Effie had long stopped believing in coincidences…

“Well, _shit_.” Jo said.

“I’m going to grab our stuff.” Annie declared. “I’ll meet you at the hovercraft.”

It wasn’t as easy as just being rolled over to a hovercraft and flying to the city though.

Steve insisted on examining her first – which wasn’t really fun given that Johanna refused to leave the room, she took her bodyguard duties very seriously – and repeated at least three times that there were risks to her flying so late in her pregnancy. When she told him she intended to risk it regardless – she was _not_ leaving Haymitch when he needed her that much, never mind _Katniss –_ Steve grumbled and then injected her with something to prevent possible complications during the flight – the complications being her possibly going into labor. Then there was a hold up in the hovercraft hold because Effie – _specifically_ – wasn’t apparently pre-approved for leaving Thirteen. It took a lot of negotiating and a call to Plutarch Heavensbee for her to finally be allowed to board the hovercraft.

“What is the name on my chart?” she asked Steve at some point during the flight.

The doctor, who was busy inventorying a bag of supplies – like most of the medical staff on board, he was dressed for the field and clearly getting ready for a lot of casualties – looked up at her in surprise. “Trinket.”

“Change it to Abernathy.” she demanded.

Steve frowned. “But you didn’t get married. That’s…”

“You heard her.” Jo growled from her seat, on the other side of the aisle. Then she glared at _her_ as if it was really annoying to be forced to take her defense.

Steve, unfortunately, had grown a little too used to victors making threats in the last few months. He still hesitated. “You don’t have a marriage license, even if I do this, people will know that…”

There was one thing Haymitch didn’t need right now and it was for her to become a pawn in whatever game Coin was playing. If they were going forward with the marriage charade, having at least one official instance of her name being Abernathy would only help.

“It was private.” she lied. “Twelve’s custom. Johanna and Annie were there, they can testify.”

Johanna looked like she wanted nothing else than smother her with a cushion but she gave a short nod.

“It was a mistake.” the doctor said, with more discernment than Effie would have credited him with. “In the hold, just now. It _had_ to be. Nobody will arrest you because you were…” He blushed and cleared his throat. “Because of your previous employment. You _are_ a rebel soldier now. You worked for the rebellion for months. _Hell_ , you worked even when I told you _not_ to… They _can’t_ arrest you. It’s…” He shrugged. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Ah, to be that young and naïve again…

“Humor me.” she deadpanned.

Steve searched her blue eyes for a long time and then grabbed his tablet and tapped on it. When he was done, he showed her the screen. _Euphemia Abernathy_. It was not quite how she had wanted to get there but it would do for now.

She met Johanna’s gaze next. Her brown eyes were sharp as ever, the sneer on her lips just as cutting. “Don’t worry, Trinket. I told Haymitch I would protect those spawns of his. Right now, you’re part of the package. They try to lay a finger on you, I’m cutting hands.”

It shouldn’t have been as reassuring as it was.

And Effie spent half the flight waiting for their hovercraft to be blown out of the sky.

It would have been easy to make it look like an accident after all. Snow had surrendered but surely there were still resistance pockets here and there.

But nothing happened aside for her being very uncomfortable by the time the hovercraft landed on the roof of the Presidential Mansion. The pain wasn’t too bad but Steve looked concerned anyway and gave very strict orders for her to be brought straight to the hospital wing. The soldiers who met them – Thirteen’s soldiers – tried to argue their orders were that she was to be sent to the Games Clinic but Haymitch showed up in the middle of the argument and, by the time he was finished shouting at them, she was already being rolled up toward the VIP hospital in the Mansion.

It wouldn’t have made much of a difference, she figured, because the Games Clinic was just as well equipped as the Mansion’s hospital but it would have been a way to make sure Haymitch didn’t have immediate access to her. Another threat, in short.

The pain wasn’t huge but it was regular and she had to clench her teeth to keep it hidden.

She barely noticed Haymitch exchanging a few words with Jo and Annie, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, mentally pleading with her babies not to do that to her now.

A hand slipped into hers, calloused and familiar in every way.

She forced a smile through the pain and opened her eyes to see his grey concerned gaze.

“I am fine.” she lied.

He snorted.

But there was no amusement in it, no spark in his gaze. His eyes were hollow, lost. _Haunted_.

He held her hand and let the medical staff work. Eventually, Steve determined she was _not_ giving birth, that it was just Braxton Hicks contractions and that, while painful, they weren’t dangerous. He left her with strict orders for the nurses to monitor her closely and to come get him at the slightest change, but he was clearly in a rush to get to the wounded who truly needed him.

She hadn’t glimpsed much of the Capitol from the room of the Mansion but she had seen enough. Pillars of smoke rising toward the sky in various spots in the horizon, huge craters where entire neighborhoods used to be… She wasn’t sure she wanted to see any more.

This hospital room was nicer than the one in Thirteen. Aside for the comfortable couch in the corner, the TV on the wall, the comfy looking visitor chair, there was also a big window that took half a wall and made it impossible to ignore the state her city was in. She could see the smoke and the dust floating in the air. 

“What the _hell_ really happened?” she asked once they were alone.

Haymitch rose to close the door and then dragged the visitor chair closer to the bed, looking for the world as if he was dragging his body along with it. She wasn’t surprised when he collapsed on it or when his composure cracked. “It’s my fault. It’s all my _fucking_ fault.”

She reached for his face and the tears that slipped through his control. He leaned his cheek into her palm, covered her hand with his, keeping it trapped there, pressed a kiss to her palm as if begging for forgiveness…

“Somehow, I _really much_ doubt that, darling.” she whispered.

“They shut me out of Command as soon as we arrived.” he muttered, after having cleared his throat. “They had me in a separate tent with screens showing live security footage so I could look around for the kids. I… _Fuck_ , I didn’t even _care,_ I just wanted to find the kids.” His voice cracked and he bowed until he could press his forehead on her stomach. It wasn’t the best position, not with the regular pangs of pain that shot through her, but she clamped her jaw shut to keep any sound of distress mute. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and she let him because clearly he needed this, needed to remind himself his babies were alright… “I spotted Hawthorne first. Then Katniss. I ordered an extraction team… They were close to the City Circle… I was… I was actually _relieved_ , Effie… We were close. I knew it wouldn’t be too hard to snatch Katniss… I…”

“She escaped the team?” she guessed.

“There was no _fucking_ team.” he spat, pressing his face harder against her stomach. He was crying for real now, she thought. There were no sobs and she couldn’t see his face but she could feel the wet warmth of tears through the cotton of her hospital gown. “All I did was give them her location… Plutarch tried, I think. He was… He was _furious_ after.”

“After.” she repeated. “Do you think Snow intercepted your communications? Do you think that is why…”

There were sobs, then. The guilt in his voice… The guilt in his voice was _unbearable_.

“It wasn’t Snow.” he muttered.

She opened her mouth to ask him to repeat himself, because _surely_ she had heard wrong, but then snapped her jaw shut. First because there was another contraction and it took all she had to keep quiet, to dig her nails in her palms and breathe through it, then because… 

“Prim… Prim was bait.” she deduced, her voice laced with horror.

“The kids… Peacekeepers had been gathering them for _hours_. It was… It was assurance we wouldn’t just blow the Mansion and be done.” he explained. “Don’t think he ever _meant_ to actually _hurt_ them.”

“He is not above hurting children.” she reminded him. Quite unnecessarily.

“Yeah, but… He ain’t senseless.” he argued. “And… He surrendered immediately after. The hovercraft that bombed them… It had the Capitol’s seal on it. Capitol cilivians turned on Peacekeepers after it happened. It was a bloodbath and it was a _stupid_ move. Snow _ain’t_ stupid. And…” He took a deep breath, tried to collect himself. “There’s this thing… They called it Hummingbird Operation… Hawthorne gave Beetee the idea of this bomb… First blast attracts response, second blast…”

He couldn’t keep talking but she didn’t need him to. She could figure the rest out. She buried her fingers in his hair, combed through the tangles, hoping to soothe him a little, knowing it was useless…

She wasn’t surprised when another shudder shook him and he hid his face into her stomach again.

His breakdown was _months_ in coming. No one could live with that much constant stress and responsibilities without it taking its toll, never mind a recovering addict who had gone through a traumatic withdrawal period only to find he was going to be a father of _three_. And then there was _Finnick_ … And now Prim and countless children whose death he felt guilty for…

The children were probably the nail in the proverbial coffin, though. Just hearing about it secondhand had been horrifying for her, she couldn’t imagine _watching_ it happen. 

“It’s my fault.” he repeated again. “It’s my fault…”

“No, it _isn’t_.” she argued in a harsh tone. “She wanted Katniss dead. She…” Prim… Sweet, gentle Prim… Prim who was the reason all of this started… Prim for whom Katniss volunteered… “Does Katniss know?”

“Think so.” He nodded after a while. “Was watching on the screens. She started running when she spotted her. Didn’t get why she was running at first… Didn’t even notice it was _Prim_ … Then… It all went fast. Too fast. Couldn’t do anything. Could just stare at the screens. I had to tell Aster. She already knew one of them was dead when she stepped out of the hovercraft, you know. Could see it on her face. She thought it was Katniss. She thought it was _Katniss_. Had to tell her. She… That was worse than telling Annie about Finnick. That was worse than anything I’ve _ever_ done. That’s why I always avoid tributes’ parents after… That’s…”

“Haymitch…” she murmured, not sure what she could say to comfort him.

“And those kids…” he sobbed. “ _Those kids_ … They were _babies_ , sweetheart… Not even ten most of them…”

It was terrible to see him like that. She had seen him lost it a few times, mostly when he had been too drunk to remember his own name. Early on, she hadn’t understood why she would sometimes hear him cry in his room when he was that wasted. She had just thought he must have been very sad to lose himself in liquor that way. Then, a few years and drunk confessions later, she had figured out where the sadness came from and why it only manifested when he was too inebriated to keep such a tight leash on his feelings.

It was the first time she had seen him cry while sober though. It was _worse_. A hundred times worse. His pain was so raw, he looked so _fragile_ … Her unshakable man… She didn’t know how to help.

“Could have stopped it.” he kept muttering. “If I had _insisted_ … If I had gone to Command when they didn’t immediately send the extraction team… If…”

“If you had forced your way into Command she would have had you arrested.” she countered softly. The hiss of pain escaped her and he looked up suddenly, cheeks wet and eyes full of panic.

“ _Shit_ , I…” He glanced from her face to the stomach he had been resting his head on. “I’m gonna get a nurse…”

“No.” she refused, grabbing his wrist before he could bolt away. “You heard what Steve said. They’re just fake contractions.” She wrinkled her nose. “They do not _feel_ fake but… I am fine. _We_ are fine.” She winced. “Although you should know they tried to stop me from leaving Thirteen…”

“I know, Plutarch told me.” he sighed, relaxing just a fraction. “I… I lost it at Coin. She’s pissed. That was why I didn’t want you away from me in the first place. It’s… It’s gonna get so ugly now…”

“Alright.” she said. “So what are we doing? What is the plan? I did not _reluctantly_ joined this rebellion just to replace a tyrant with a tyrant. Never mind one who hates me and has zero fashion sense.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t know. I think we need Katniss for anything political. For now… _I lost it_ , Effie. I threatened to expose her, she said it’s all classified and if I say anything she will have me arrested for _treason_. She said… She said you won’t be pregnant forever and escorts… Basically, she said I should play nice if I wanted _her_ to play nice.” He shook his head. “She’s got me by the balls.”

“Because of me…” She pursed her lips. That was exactly what she had wanted to avoid, exactly what he had _always_ tried to prevent with the Capitol…

“No.” He snorted, wiping his cheeks, his voice a little steadier now. “Because I was an idiot who had to poke the snake instead of twisting its neck quietly.” He shook his head. “We’ve got a status quo for now. As long as I keep my mouth shut and keep the other victors under control, you’re pardoned.”

“I have _immunity_.” she reminded him. “She cannot just…”

“She’s declared herself _President_.” he cut her off. “She can do whatever the hell she wants and make it look like it doesn’t come from her.” He rubbed his eyes. “Right now, all I want is some _fucking_ room to breathe, lick our wounds, recover… Keep the kids safe. Give Katniss time to heal… Give Peeta time to get his mind back…” He shot her a guilty look. “Give you a break from worrying all the time too…”

“I am pregnant with triplets. I am not seeing myself _not_ worrying all the time any time soon.” she deadpanned.

His mouth twitched but it was slow and brief.

He looked so…

“Haymitch, when is the last time you slept?” she asked gently, reaching for his arm.

“Fell asleep sitting with Katniss earlier.” he mumbled.

She pursed her lips. “How long?”

He waved his hand. “Couple of hours. She’s in a tank, did I tell you that? It’s like… full of this liquid…” He shook his head. “Kills me to see her like that. It’s… She looks _bad_. They drugged her but I’m scared she’s in pain anyway. _All_ _my fault_ …”

“Haymitch.” she snapped before he could spiral again. It wasn’t all sorrow, grief and misplaced guilt, this breakdown, she could see it plain as day. “You are _beyond_ exhausted. Lie down on the couch and _sleep_.”

“Nah.” he refuted. “I’m good. Can’t sleep anyway.”

“They must have given you a room.” she surmised, thinking her initial plan over. “You would be more comfortable there, in a real bed. You should have at least a full night of…”

“Said _no_.” he growled, gruff and harsh like he hadn’t been with her in a while. She studied him until he averted his eyes. “There’s liquor in the room. Can’t say I’d deal well with that now.” He shrugged. “And if I sleep, there are gonna be nightmares. Really _bad_ nightmares.”

She didn’t ask him if he had drunk anything because it was obvious he _hadn’t_. He didn’t behave like an addict who had gotten his fix, his behavior was _exactly_ what she had feared. He was on the brink of relapse and it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. Hopefully, with her there and the impossible to ignore reminder that staying sober was worth it, it would help.

“Sleep on the couch, then.” she coaxed. “If you have nightmares, I will be here.”

He shook his head in refusal. “I try to close my eyes, it’s _our kids_ I see burning. For Katniss, I don’t even have to _imagine_.” He bowed abruptly, kissing her stomach and gently stroking it. “Sorry. Should be paying attention to _you_. You still in pain? You’re sure you don’t want me to call someone? We should have you checked again. Just in case.”

For his peace of mind, because she could see he would torture himself thinking something was wrong with the babies, she agreed he should call someone.

And she spent the whole time wondering if they could all get through this unscathed.

Because one thing was certain, the rebellion may have won but the war wasn’t over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a loooooong chapter! And an overdue breakdown... What did you think of this chapter? Can someone give Haymitch the hug he so deserves? Let me know your thoughts!


	21. Chapter 21

It felt surreal to walk around the Mansion’s gardens with Peeta.

Two weeks after the official surrender, the crisp blue winter sky was still not entirely free of smoke and dust. All the fires had been put out but some buildings were too damaged to be allowed to stand and they were slowly but surely being torn down. The brutal sound of a skyscraper being brought down always startled him, no matter how planned and controlled the demolition was.

“How is she?” Peeta asked eventually.

It was the first question the boy had asked since Haymitch had collected him from the room he had been assigned – not a hospital room but a proper room in the guest wing, with guards at the door who were friendly enough to make the whole thing look like protection more than threat. They were trailing behind now, far enough that they could both pretend they weren’t being followed.

Haymitch studied him from the corner of his eye, glad to see him looking so much better. The bruises and scrapes from the Star Squad’s mad dash through the city had healed enough that he didn’t look like he had gone through the wringer anymore and the insane spark was gone from his gaze. Well… It _lurked_ there sometimes, the shadow of the tracker-jacker venom, but, mostly, Peeta looked and sounded like the same boy he had always known.

He felt guilty he hadn’t been able to give him more attention before.

He had spent most of his time by Katniss’ tank even if the girl wasn’t aware of his presence, relying heavily on Johanna and Annie to take care of Effie. When he wasn’t sitting with the girl, he was with his _wife_ – the term was still weird but that was what everyone was calling her and he didn’t dare correct them, it was better to keep the charade up in the long run, and since Johanna and Annie told everyone who would listen that they had witnessed their toasting… Effie wasn’t doing too bad all things considered, but she was not doing extremely well either.

They had had another scare a couple of days earlier.

Steve’s objective was now for the pregnancy to hit the eight months mark.

It was all terrifying to him. The fact that, soon, the babies would be there. The all too obvious fact that Effie’s health was at risk and she might… No. He refused to even entertain _that_. They were in the city, the only good thing about this place was the fact they had the best doctors in residence. He had had an expert brought in already who had concurred with Steve’s diagnostic so…

Well… At least they were reasonably sure there wouldn’t be a surprise fourth one now.

“Haymitch?”

Peeta was frowning and he shook his head. “Sorry.” What had been the question? How was she? No doubt about which _she_ either. “The skin grafts are taking. She’s doing well. They will take her out of the tank soon. That should… She should wake up properly then.”

And be in atrocious levels of pain.

The morphling would help but morphling was highly addictive – he could practically see Johanna making plans to steal some already – and he wasn’t happy about that. Not that there was an alternative. He wasn’t going to let Katniss be in pain. If she got addicted… They would cross that bridge when it would come to it.

There was an ornate steel bench in the distance and they headed there without consulting each other. There wasn’t much to see in the gardens anyway. Everything was dead. They could have gone to the conservatory but that was where they were keeping Snow – for _whatever_ reason since they had actual _prisons_ at their disposal, one of them secret and right under the Training Center…

“Doctor Aurelius says I should go see her.” Peeta told him after a minute.

Haymitch frowned. “Yeah?”

Aurelius hadn’t discussed that with him and he had made it _very clear_ to Coin that he was still in charge of the kids. He didn’t want her to play another trick. Although, their dear brand new President seemed to think she had won and was too busy with her new job to really bother about him or Katniss… So far, Effie had been left alone too.

“I don’t want to.” the boy said, his voice dropping a little. “I’m scared I’ll lose it and hurt her while she’s…”

He let his sentence trail off and Haymitch stopped pretending he wasn’t studying him. The boy truly looked better, more like himself. They sat on the bench and he made a split-decision.

“We can take precautions if you want to see her.” he offered. “We can have guards. Sedatives at the ready. I don’t know… We can talk it over with your doctors.”

Peeta shook his head. “I don’t want to risk it.”

Haymitch sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been with her for days on the run and you haven’t killed her yet.”

“I tried a couple of times.” Peeta confessed, shutting his eyes tight. “It’s confusing. One second I know what’s real, the next it slips through my fingers.” The boy reopened his eyes, his lips pursed in a tight line. The boy tried to smile even if it was strained. “I’m doing better though. It’s mostly only Katniss who triggers me now. I don’t feel like punching you anymore.”

Haymitch snorted. “Good to hear. Though I guess I deserved it.”

In the first few weeks after his rescue, Peeta had attacked him on sight. Not with the same viciousness he had jumped on Katniss, not with the same intent, but the boy had been furious at him and for good reasons. Coupled with the venom and the corrupted memories…

“You did.” Peeta nodded. “But I’m over it now. We’re good.”

Haymitch relaxed a little. “Should have checked on you more. I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s been crazy.”

“I get it.” the boy dismissed. “I prefer you’re sitting with her than babysitting me. It’s good you’re with her if I can’t be there.” He shrugged. “And I guess you must have been working with the rebels a lot, right? It can’t be easy to rebuild a government from scratch.”

Working with the rebels…

He wasn’t welcome anywhere near the brand new version of Command. His usefulness had ended the moment the Capitol had fallen and the only interest he still held was his tenuous hold on the surviving victors – and, _boy_ , was Enobaria pissed not to have been rescued with everyone else. She hadn’t been tortured – or at least not as badly as the others – but she had spent months locked in a room and that had made her understandably cranky, no matter that it had been a bedroom and not a cell.

“I’ve mostly been in the hospital with Katniss and Effie.” he corrected, not willing to lie to the boy again.

“Effie?” Peeta turned so he was sitting sideways on the bench, his focus all on Haymitch. He looked a little eager. “Is she here?” The boy made a small face. “She was in Thirteen, wasn’t she? I remember… It’s all a little bit blurry, the first few weeks I spent there, but I think I remember her talking to me…”

“She was. She did talk to you.” he confirmed. “She wasn’t allowed in your room so she talked to you from the observation deck. She spent whole afternoons with you, kid.”

Peeta frowned harder. “But she wasn’t there after, was she?” He rubbed his brow. “I don’t remember her being…”

“She would have kept visiting you.” he cut him off before the boy could work himself up. “But she was on bed rest. And then she got stuck in the hospital.”

Peeta watched him, clearly confused. “Why was she in the hospital? Wait… You mean she still _is_ in the hospital, right? That’s what you meant when you said you spent your time with her and Katniss?” Haymitch nodded. “Why? What happened? Is she sick?”

The kid was getting worked up and that, if experience served, wasn’t good at all. He didn’t want to trigger an episode with misplaced anxiety.

Haymitch squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “She ain’t _sick_. Don’t you remember she’s… I’m sure I told you. After you stopped trying to punch me, that is…”

_Had_ he told the boy once he was more lucid though?

Effie _must_ have but…

“What’s wrong with Effie?” Peeta insisted. “Can I see her? I won’t… I don’t think I would try to hurt her, I promise. I like Effie.”

“I know you do, kid, but just… Can you try to calm down for me?” Haymitch requested, squeezing his shoulder that little bit harder. “Can take you to see her if you’re sure you feel okay but not while you’re so worked up.”

Peeta’s blue eyes were a little unfocused but he nodded along to what Haymitch was saying and matched him deep breath for deep breath. After a couple of minutes, his gaze was clear again. _Lucid_.

“What’s wrong with Effie?” the boy asked again.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with Effie.” he promised. _Hopefully_ , that day _nothing_ was wrong. She had been having a good couple of days. No pain, no extreme tiredness… Hormones were playing tricks on her again but that was only to be expected. “She’s just…” It was probably the last time he got to tell someone and it was funny how thrilling it had become. Well, maybe not _funny_ , but in the beginning it had been so _terrifying_ … Like he was announcing they had the plague or something… But now… He would have felt better if he had been sure they were all safe and he still needed to figure out what to do about Coin – he had subtly been probing Plutarch and the former Head Gamemaker did not seem to think she was suited to remain president either – but he felt safe enough to be cautiously excited about all this. Still terrified, sure, but also cautiously excited. “She’s pregnant.”

Peeta stared at him for a long moment, as if the words didn’t quite make sense, and then the boy _beamed_. “Oh, that’s great! Who’s the father? Was he in the city all along? Is he alright? She must have been so worried…”

That reaction was getting _old_.

He knew they had been very good at hiding but he hadn’t realized they had been _that_ good.

Neither Finnick nor Johanna had deemed it necessary to ask who had knocked her up. But Katniss and Peeta? Same reaction. Those two were made for each other and he hoped they would realize that at some point.

He rolled his eyes, not bothering to curb the annoyance in his tone. “ _I_ ’m the father, boy.”

“Yeah, right.” Peeta laughed. And laughed. Until he realized Haymitch wasn’t laughing with him. “Wait, really?”

“ _Really_.” he deadpanned. “Glad to see you find it so funny though.”

The boy gaped at him. “You’re telling me _you_ chose to have a baby in the middle of a war?”

“No.” he scoffed. “I’m telling you she got pregnant. We weren’t _trying_.”

Imagine _that_. Try for a baby. _Of his own volition_.

Peeta stared at him, narrowing his eyes a little. “On the Tour, you spent two _very_ awkward hours showing me how to put a condom on a banana and threatening to castrate me if I got Katniss pregnant.” The boy paused. “Real or not real?”

_That_ , of course, the boy _would_ remember.

“Real.” he grumbled. “But it wasn’t like we had condoms or access to any contraception in Thirteen. It was…” He stopped and shook his head. “Why am I justifying myself to you? She got pregnant. It was an accident. End of story.”

Peeta didn’t look impressed. “Are you going to take care of the baby?”

He opened and closed his mouth before sputtering in outrage. “ _Of course_ , I’m gonna take care of the baby!” _Babies_ , he automatically corrected in his mind but he was too vexed to do anything but glare at the boy. It was _insulting_. “What kind of _asshole_ do you take me for?”

“Well, sorry.” Peeta shrugged. “But you don’t do relationships so you probably slept with Effie for fun…” The boy blushed and made a disgusted face. “And then when she found out she was pregnant, I’m pretty sure you freaked out very badly and you were very mean to her. I _know_ you, Haymitch.”

That was actually a more likely scenario than what really had happened, all things considered.

“I freaked out. She freaked out.” he granted. “There was a lot of freaking out all around. That doesn’t mean I left her to deal with this by herself.”

Peeta studied him, not entirely convinced. “So you’re… _together_ now?”

“We’re fake-married.” he announced. “Until we can make it more real. Seems to be the trend in our team.”

They hadn’t even started discussing _that_. He figured she would want a real wedding, more like the one Finnick and Annie had shared, not a clandestine toasting in the middle of the night. That would have to wait for her to get out of the hospital either way though. And then it would have to wait a little more because he couldn’t see _even Effie Trinket_ planning a wedding with three little babies to take care of.

“Is that a good idea?” Peeta sighed. “I know you like her more than you say. I can tell you pretend to hate her even if Katniss always thought I was crazy.” The boy winced. “At least, I think she did…” He rubbed his forehead and then shook his head, focusing back on the conversation at hand. “But can you be a _real_ couple? I mean if it only happened because you were bored or stressed… There’s a child to consider…”

“You’re really quick to assume it was just a one-time thing.” Haymitch grumbled.

“Wasn’t it?” Peeta challenged, like it was obvious. “You don’t do relationships.”

“Maybe cause I’ve been in a relationship _with her_ for ten years, kid.” he snapped. Sure, usually, he said _arrangement_ or _affair_ instead of _relationship_. They were the detached, dispassionate versions of the word. And yet… Ten years of sex… At least six of those years exclusive… He had admitted it was a relationship the moment he had decided to have her brought to Thirteen.

Peeta was, at last, speechless.

Haymitch felt a little bad for having snapped at him and he cleared his throat, burying his hands in his pockets. “We weren’t trying to get pregnant and if you’re asking me if I wanted a kid, answer’s no. She’s really aware of that, trust me. Doesn’t mean I would dump her when she’s expecting our baby or that I haven’t gotten used to the idea.” He licked lips. “Or that I ain’t happy about it now.”

Slowly, Peeta relaxed and smiled, getting off the high horse he always liked to ride. “Congratulations.”

Haymitch smirked. “Thanks.” They exchanged an awkward side hug and then Haymitch cleared his throat again. “Doesn’t change anything, you know. You and the girl, you’re still…”

“I know.” Peeta cut him off, saving him from embarrassing himself further with grand emotional declarations. “Can I see Effie now?”

“Sure.” he agreed. “But if you feel like you’re about to have an episode, you’ve got to tell me.”

“Of course.” Peeta jumped to his feet, looking so young and excited all of a sudden that Haymitch snorted.

His enthusiasm was contagious.

It wasn’t a long walk to the hospital wing and Peeta spent the whole time harassing him with questions about the baby, if they knew the gender, if they had chosen a name yet… It would have been the perfect moment to announce they were having triplets but the boy’s comments still rankled and he decided Effie could share _some_ of the news so he deftly avoided answering, telling him he would have to ask their escort himself.

He didn’t knock before opening the door to her hospital room but he did signal Peeta to stay back a little so she wouldn’t spot him first thing.

Effie looked up from her book – one good thing about being stuck in the Presidential Mansion was the library, he had sneaked out a huge pile of books on pregnancy, education and what do to do when you were having several children at once; he had only skimmed a few, most of it was drivel, but she had been delighted to be able to do proper research – a bright smile on her lips when she realized it was him. Jo groaned with relief and shot out of her chair, clearly bored to tears.

“I ain’t coming back for at least _four_ hours.” Seven’s victor warned before disappearing down the corridor.

Effie pursed her lips. “She is vexed because Amy stopped kicking the moment she tried to feel it. I was not expecting you back so soon!”

He leaned against the threshold, arms crossed. “I’ve got a surprise.”

“Another one?” She grinned, her voice turning to a familiar purr. “You are _spoiling_ me.”

He _was_ spoiling her, truth be told. It had been so terrible to watch her crave random sweets or types of food over the months only to be unable to provide them for her… He actually _enjoyed_ chasing around for whatever she was in the mood for just to see the joy on her face. And that was just the cravings.

She was so worried and stressed about _everything_ … Katniss, Coin, the babies… Her family who, while alive and safe as far as he was able to tell, wouldn’t respond to her invitations to come and visit… She was in pain too often for his liking too. He hated seeing her like that. If there had been a way to transfer the pregnancy to him… He would have done it in a heartbeat to help her.

He tried to make it all more bearable instead. By spoiling her, yeah.

He raided random rooms in the Mansion for little gifts that would put a smile on her lips. So far he had found her some nail polish, make-up, hair stuff… It kept him busy when he was too antsy to sit still and he wanted a drink. Some stuff he had even ordered from outside the Mansion. Like a particularly pretty pair of pink silk pajamas with a soft stretchy band at the waist to accommodate the babies – the same ones she was wearing right then – just to soften the blow about her apartment – still standing but in such a state it would need _a lot_ of repairs. He had bought a few more clothes for the two of them – they were both _sick_ of grey – as well as three rompers that had her screaming in delight and crying on his shoulder for two hours.

Of course, once she had been done being emotional over the gift, they had both realized they would need something more practical than symbolic presents: like _more_ baby clothes, cribs, a changing table… But all that was hard to find with most businesses still closed.

“Is it another tuna sandwich?” she asked, eyes wide, losing all semblance of seduction faced with the prospect of another of those snacks she was obsessed with. Tuna, mayo, sliced boiled eggs, a tomato and a few leaves of lettuce. Put all that between two slices of bread and she would moan like it was… Well… _him_. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Peeta biting off a laugh.

“Better.” he mocked. “What are the rules, princess?”

She rolled her eyes, her enthusiasm dampening a little. “I do not get _over excited_ even if I really enjoy my present, I remember to breathe steady and regular, or Steve will ban you from my room.”

_And_ they would likely find themselves with a repeat episode of her being in pain and too tired to do much more than open her eyes for a couple of days. And _that_ if she didn’t just give birth early.

She shot him a slightly irritated challenging look.

“Good enough.” he sighed and stepped aside.

The second Peeta stepped into her line of sight, she let out a shriek that could only be qualified of _over excited_ and she opened her arms wide for a hug that the boy was only too happy to grant. Haymitch hovered close just in case Peeta had an episode or…

But it didn’t seem like the boy was about to lose it. He was bent over the bed, hugging her tight, and she clutched him to her as if she never wanted to let go.

“Don’t cry.” Peeta chuckled, emotions making his voice shaky. “I’m fine, I promise. Don’t cry.”

“Oh, I cry all the time now.” she dismissed, laughing, forcing him to draw back a little so she could frame his face in her hands and get a good look at him. “You lost weight. Are they feeding you properly? Are they treating you right? Oh, I would have come to you, dear, but they won’t let me out of this bed!”

Peeta kept chuckling, so blissfully happy in the moment that Haymitch relaxed and sat at the foot of her bed, watching the two of them. If he had taken a liking to Katniss immediately, Effie had always had a soft spot for the boy.

“I’m fine I promise.” the boy insisted, his eyes dropping to her stomach. His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you’re _huge_.” It was Haymitch’s turn to laugh. He didn’t even try to stifle it, not even when Effie glared at him. Peeta seemed to realize he had made a blunder and backtracked. “I mean… Haymitch told me you were pregnant but I wasn’t expecting… I mean… I… You must be very close to term…”

“Not quite.” Effie grumbled, pouting a little and rubbing her stomach with that small wince that meant one of the babies was being fussy. Haymitch immediately reached out to try and feel it – which seemed to surprise Peeta. Not as much as what Effie said next though. “You try and grow three babies and we will see if you do not get huge.”

Peeta’s jaw dropped.

Not an uncommon reaction to _that_ bit of news.

“Three?” the boy repeated faintly.

Effie frowned, glancing at Haymitch before looking back at the boy. “I am sorry, I thought he told you.”

“I was leaving some news for you.” he mocked. “Cause, you know, Peeta’s concerned I’m gonna run and leave you somewhere in a ditch. And that was when he thought we were having _one_ so…”

An amused spark danced in her blue eyes. “Oh, he would never leave me in a _ditch_ , Peeta dear. Now, in a furnished house with a sturdy lock and a stocked pantry lost in the middle of the woods… Safe and off the grid, naturally…”

He rolled his eyes, smirking at her with more fondness than he knew how to repress. “He already thinks I’m gonna be a horrible father, don’t put ideas in his head.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be a horrible father.” Peeta protested. “I just thought you wouldn’t react well to the news.”

“He did not.” Effie hummed.

“Says the woman who had to be sedated when she was told we were having three.” Haymitch deadpanned.

“Well… _Three_.” she scoffed. “I still think it is _insane_.”

“How did that even happen?” Peeta asked.

Mostly, Haymitch thought the boy was talking to himself but Effie was eager for distractions and more eager even to see him so she gestured at the visitor chair and started telling him all about the not so secret fertility treatment every citizen in Thirteen was submitted to and about how they had thought they were having twins only to discover it would be triplets.

_Triplets_.

It was still mind-boggling.

Haymitch tuned her out, attuned to the rhythm of her voice, and let his fingers dance around her stomach. Amy was moving a lot, Brody was kicking but Caleb… Sometimes he worried Caleb would get crushed by his brother and sister – something Steve had firmly told him was not possible. Sandwiched between them, he was the one who kicked the least. He was also easy to find because, as far as the last ultrasound had showed, he was the lowest of the babies and, likely, the first who would be born.

“So you’re going to work on the apartment?”

The question was directed at him and Haymitch stared at Peeta for a moment before he finally made sense of it.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “As soon as they take Katniss out of the tank and I’m sure she’s…” He winced because the boy looked concerned all of a sudden. “She’s gonna be alright, kid. I’m just paranoid.” Effie made a low noise in the back of her throat but Haymitch shot her a look and she kept her peace. He didn’t want to worry the boy more than he already was. He didn’t want to involve him with whatever would have to be done with Coin. “Anyway… I’ve found someone to replace the windows… Not that easy nowadays… He can only get to it in a couple of weeks anyway. Windows were the biggest problems, they’ve been blown out by bomb blasts. It’s been thrashed and looted… Can’t say if it was Peacekeepers or squatters… I boarded the front door and paddled it but that’s only a temporary fix. It’s broken. I need to change it.”

He was mostly talking to himself now. Her place would need _major_ work before they could even think about moving there – never mind moving _babies_ in there.

“Change the front door, clean everything, make an inventory of everything that was stolen, repaint the walls, take apart the furniture in the spare room and get a nursery ready…” Effie hummed in a sing-song voice that wasn’t quite mocking but close. “And all that _before_ I give birth.”

“Right.” he sighed. “But like I said… It’s gonna have to wait a couple of weeks more. No point doing anything if we don’t have windows.”

Peeta followed the discussion as if the way they interacted greatly amused him.

“I could help…” the boy suggested, slightly hesitant. “If you want. It would give me something more to do than stare at the walls and I’m not bad with my hands. And I could… I could pain something nice in the nursery…”

“Oh, would you?” Effie beamed, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

She was into full escort persona, Haymitch mused, but that wasn’t entirely unexpected. She had been putting on a show for so long… She didn’t bother with him anymore and she had mostly lowered her guard around Annie and Johanna but she still put up an act for Katniss’ sake most of the time, it figured she would do the same for Peeta.

“I’ll talk about it with your doctor.” Haymitch said, not promising anything.

Peeta wasn’t a prisoner but nobody had ever considered letting him roam free either. Still, he didn’t see why Aurelius would be opposed to it if he thought the boy was ready to see Katniss.

Effie suddenly sucked in a breath and Haymitch was immediately on alert. “You need the doc?”

“No.” she groaned, rubbing Amy’s side. “Someone is _extremely_ fussy today. Here…” She nudged Peeta’s wrist and the boy was only too willing to feel around her stomach, looking completely fascinated. “This is Amaryllis.”

“We’re calling her Amy.” Haymitch was quick to add, still watching Effie closely.

She pursed her lips at him. “I promise it was just a sharp kick. _Relax,_ Haymitch. If I feel a contraction, I will tell you.”

“Are you _supposed_ to be having contractions?” Peeta frowned.

“Absolutely not.” Effie replied cheerfully. “Which is why we are not talking about the possibility of it. Now, here, dear…” She moved the boy’s hand to the other side. “Can you feel it? He was having hiccups a minute ago but I am not sure you can feel it now… This is Brody. And here…” She guided Peeta’s hand lower and more toward the middle. “Here we have our bonus baby.”

“Caleb.” Haymitch supplied with a small smile.

“Caleb.” Effie repeated with a grin. “Who needs to remain where he is for _at least_ another month.”

It never hurt to remind Caleb of that so, once Peeta had taken back his hand to Amy’s side to feel the kicking, Haymitch gently rubbed the spot he was in.

Effie, probably not wanting Brody to feel put aside, stroked the other side of her stomach.

It was probably a very weird sight because when he stepped inside without waiting for an answer to his distracted knock, Steve froze in his tracks.

Haymitch didn’t care.

This, he thought, this was his family all in one room, safe and happy, as it should be. All that was missing was the girl and once she would be better…

This, he decided, what was he wanted his future to look like.

The four of them and the three babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're cautiously excited now! Unlike me who is back on lockdown but will likely have to go out to work this time since schools are staying open. Schedule might vary next week for prompts (as in there might not be any). i will publish the last of hayffieween tomorrow, KTVS on sunday... Then chaptered stories should remain on dedicated days but I'm not sure. everything is uncertain right now and I won't lie to you I am having a lot of anxiety troubles lately so... Maybe follow/suscribe to the story if you want to be sure to know when I post (I'm not fishing for stats, I don't care about follow/suscribe I only care about feedback honestly so... yeah. The world is what it is right now and I'm not handling that particularly well ahah). 
> 
> Anyway! Peeta is back and Peeta knows now! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know your thoughts!


	22. Chapter 22

Effie pursed her lips as she watched Viola suddenly rise on the TV mounted on the wall. Even without the sound, she could tell the trial had gone as expected and the verdict was only too obvious given the sneer on her old rival’s face. Viola Summercket was the last active escort be to be tried. All the Gamemakers save from Plutarch were already dead, all the other active escorts were gone… Viola’s relations had granted her a respite but it had only been a matter of time. The trials had mostly moved on to stylists now…

Haymitch didn’t like her watching, worried it would upset her. And it usually _did_. However, she also felt she owed it to them all to watch both the trials and the live executions. It was masochist, perhaps, because she couldn’t stop herself from thinking it was where she should have ended up – she was by no way suicidal but the part of her that had felt guilty about her role in the Games ever since she had realized just how _wrong_ it all was… And it went beyond a misplaced sense of guilt at having escaped the trials. She knew those people, she would even call a lot of them _friends_ if asked. It felt disrespectful to pretend it wasn’t happening, to turn her eyes away while they were being slaughtered.

It felt like repeating past mistakes, like pretending she didn’t see the real horror of the Games. You did what you had to do to survive and stay on top, Effie knew that better than everybody, even lie to everyone and yourself. But there was _no_ lying to herself about those trials.

The Gamemakers’ executions, she had made her peace with, not having had any particular personal relationship with any of them. The only Gamemaker she had ever cared about was Seneca and Seneca…

But the escorts? Each and every one of them, she knew as intimately as you could when you saw each other every day for decades in the city. She had cried for each and every one of them and she suspected she would cry for Viola too. It went beyond the escort thing for her. Those women, they were part of her life. Not all were friends, but all of them had been _there_ with her. The bond they shared… She couldn’t explain it.

And the stylists… She was not sure why the stylists were held accountable at the same level as the escorts and Gamemakers but they were almost all wiped out already. The fashion industry would never recover. 

And it wouldn’t stop there.

They had started rounding up former escorts, former Gamemakers, former stylists… Anyone who had worked for the Games at some point… They had hauled an eighty year old woman out of her home on live TV the other day, cuffed and dazed, just because she used to be one of the first escorts. Nobody was safe anymore. Well… No _Capitol_ was safe.

Viola was forcefully removed from the courtroom and another woman was dragged in. Without wig, make-up or fancy clothes, it took a while for Effie to identify her. She was a hairstylist, she thought, from some prep team…

She was tempted to turn the volume back on just to check if she was right about her identity but a glance at the ajar door of the cupboard deterred her. That cupboard was small. A few coat-hangers, a couple of shelves to stock clothes… And a very disturbed girl hiding in it.

Katniss had been released from the hospital a few days earlier and had yet to utter one single word. She roamed the Mansion like a ghost, had started hiding in small spaces again and wouldn’t interact with anyone. She spent hours curled up in out-of-the way places and sucked on morphling tablets like it was candy.

The first time the girl had staggered in her room, Effie had been both shocked and incensed. She had actually gotten out of bed to try and coax her out of her cupboard but nothing had worked, not even when Haymitch had finally showed up. He had been forced to carry Katniss back to her own room – and had later grumbled about Aster not watching her attentively enough, even though he understood the woman’s grief was enormous. Aster Everdeen was not doing well, that was plain to see.

But Effie’s prime concern was Katniss, always and foremost.

The girl looked… It wasn’t just the pink burn scars on her neck or the singed loose hair that would need a good brushing and probably a cut… It was the haunted look in her Seam grey eyes. The fact that she stared at Effie but didn’t seem to see her.

And yet she kept coming back to hide in her cupboard.

She and Haymitch had decided it probably meant she felt safe there so they let it happen. At least, this way, they knew where the girl was and they could keep an eye on her.

And that meant Johanna could take some time off before they strangled each other. With Katniss in the room, Haymitch had reluctantly loosened his rule about her having a bodyguard.

Or so it seemed.

She wasn’t an idiot.

She knew he had placed people in the corridor who had express orders to stop anyone from removing her from the room – particularly Thirteen soldiers. The soldiers he had patrolling came from Eight. The dissentions amongst the rebel army were growing rampant… And Haymitch had turned Paylor into enough of a steady ally that her fighters answered to him.

He had been discreetly working behind the scenes in the last couple of weeks, making himself a network of rebels figures from various Districts, people who weren’t taking well to _Thirteen’s_ military rule – as temporary as it was supposed to be… He didn’t have a big plan yet, he was just setting the chessboard, but they both knew the Coin problem would have to be addressed sooner rather than later.

Effie swallowed back a sigh. For now, with Katniss in her room, she didn’t dare put the sound back on. She didn’t want to upset the girl because she enjoyed torturing herself watching her friends and colleagues being sentenced to death. She wasn’t sure Katniss was aware of what was happening in Panem – or even right there in the Mansion.

There was a round of sharp knocks on the door and Effie fumbled with the remote, hurrying to shut the TV off. Haymitch never bothered to knock and Steve had a tendency to knock and then come in without waiting but neither of them approved of her watching the Purge trials and she didn’t want to risk another lecture in case they had both suddenly discovered _manners_.

“Come in.” she invited, automatically placing a hand on her rainbow-clad stomach. The pajama set was a gift from Plutarch who understood fashion better than Haymitch. It was very comfy, stretchy and yet trendy at the same time. Haymitch had laughed the first time he had seen her in it but she liked it. The pants and top were a light pale blue and a huge rainbow stretched across her pregnant stomach, stressing out the unmistakable baby belly. It was cute.

The person walked in, a little hesitant, and Effie startled.

“Lyssa!” she exclaimed, too shocked to hide her surprise.

Her sister looked… Well, she had certainly looked _better_. Her blue dyed hair showed dark blond roots, her make-up was perfect but toned down like was now the norm – it was safer to look District in the streets nowadays – but above all she seemed _tired_. The foundation powder didn’t quite hide the bags under her eyes or the lines Effie didn’t remember having ever seen at the corners of her eyes.

“ _Effie_.” Lyssa stepped forward, smiling, and froze when she caught sight of her stomach – there was _no_ missing her stomach. “ _Oh_. I was worried when they directed me to the hospital wing. I did not understand why…” Lyssandra stuttered, adjusting to the news. “But… _How_?”

Effie waved her forward, hauling herself into a sitting position, holding out her arms open. It was no wonder her sister would be surprised, she was well aware of her medical issues. “A very long story but I suppose the bottom line is obvious… I did not want to tell you all in my letters… Did you get my letters?”

She had sent _dozens_.

Lyssa was still blinking at her pregnant stomach but she finally resumed walking, hugging Effie back with a genuine smile. She half-expected the hug to be short and perfunctory, a kiss in the air next to her cheek… But Lyssandra’s arms wrapped firmly around her and Effie held her just as tight and, for a second, it felt like they were clinging to each other to resist being torn apart in the middle of a hurricane.

The Trinkets never hugged.

Effie couldn’t remember the last time she had taken her sister in her arms. And yet it made her feel so… Her perfume was the same expensive flagrance she had been wearing since as long as Effie could remember. For a second, it was like being a child again, looking up at her big sister with nothing but admiration and love, when Lyssa’s attention felt like a privilege to be proud of… It was like sitting on one of their beds again, with Lyssandra brushing her hair and telling her she looked beautiful…

She had felt so safe then, so happy to be allowed to share her sister’s glow…

“I missed you.” she whispered without really meaning to.

And she didn’t mean just the last few months.

She meant the _decades_ she had let their mother poison her by always holding Lyssa as a golden standard Effie could never hope to reach.

“Me too, darling.” Lyssa answered, squeezing her tight before letting go. “I missed you _so much_ …”

Lyssanda put her purse down, took off her coat and sat down, prim and proper, in the visitor chair, looking only slightly awkward after that uncharacteristic emotional moment. Eventually, after a few seconds of weird silence, she waved at her belly and chuckled. “I am surprised it has not made the news…”

“We are trying to keep it… _low-key_ for as long as possible.” she said, a bit defensively. There would be no keeping it secret forever, naturally. Not with everyone who had been in Thirteen already aware she was pregnant with Haymitch’s babies. But with her stuck in the hospital, Capitol citizens didn’t know and that was how they had both decided to keep it… The press was barely starting to question her whereabouts, mostly because of the trials. The rebels had issued an official statement, saying she had been a part of the rebellion – and that had also gone a long way into convincing Haymitch that Coin wasn’t going to have her dragged in front of an execution squad while he was out trying to fix her apartment – and that she was officially pardoned for her crimes. People were talking, of course. _Speculating_. Some were calling hers names. There would be no winning on that particular front. “Haymitch is scared of possible retributions, you understand.”

She added the last part as an afterthought because it was a possibility that had her concerned as well. Soon, she would be the last active escort alive. Some people would not take kindly to that. Some of the District rebels were already advocating for complete annihilation of the Capitol population – or, at the very least, _enslavement_ – so as a figurehead of said Capitol population – and of the _Games,_ no less… And, obviously, there were the Capitols who viewed her and Plutarch as the worst kind of traitors…

“Haymitch. Of course.” Lyssa said flatly, not particularly surprised it seemed. “He is the father, then, I suppose?”

Effie nodded. It was a bit awkward and she had been _so_ worried about her family, particularly because of their silence… She reached out her hand, Lyssa grabbed it with a smile that didn’t seem too forced but that still had an odd edge to it.

“How are you?” she asked. “The boys? Mother and Father? I have been sending so many letters, Lyssa… I would have come to the house at once, you know, but I am quite stuck in this bed as you can see. And Haymitch offered to fetch you but I was afraid Mother would hate it.” She shook her head. “It has been _a month_ , Lyssa. Why have you not come sooner?”

She hated the way she sounded, like a whiney little girl. But she was entering her eighth month and a part of her _really_ wanted her family to share a bit of her pregnancy. As irrational as it was, because she knew she would regret the feeling as soon as Elindra would show up, that particular time also made her want her mother near. She was about to give life and it felt natural to have the woman who had… Well, not _birthed_ her, the Trinket had used a surrogate for their second child but… It was the same thing. She was still Elindra’s child and she needed her mother.

“Mother does not…” Lyssa winced. “The last few months were _very_ difficult, Effie. Once the war was at our doorstep… It was a scary time. You have _no_ idea how terrifying it was to fear being bombed into oblivion at any given moment. So many people are gone…” She shook her head. “When the Peacekeepers came to offer a safe spot for the children at the Mansion… I couldn’t _bear_ to send them, thanks heaven. We huddled in Mother and Father’s cellar for days until it was all over.” 

It had been a scary time in Thirteen too, she wanted to argue. And she wasn’t a stranger to bombs raining down on your head.

But she bit her tongue. “I am glad the boys are alright. You were right not trust Peacekeepers.”

“It was not the Peacekeepers I did not trust, it was your rebels.” Lyssa snapped but immediately took a deep breath and let it out as if getting rid of her sudden hostility. “Mother was sick with worry the whole time this rebellion lasted. And now that news of your associations came out… Let’s just say she does not approve of your political opinions. Or choices of paramours for that matter. We suspected, you see.” Her sister shook her head. “Why, at the very beginning, when the Peacekeepers interrogated us…”

“Peacekeepers interrogated you?” Effie bit down on her bottom lip, feeling guilty. She had known it would be likely, of course, but…

“Yes. They were pleasant at first but they became a bit… _overzealous_ when we did not tell them what they wanted to hear. Mother was very agitated. She kept insisting you must have been _kidnapped_ …” Lyssandra chuckled. “They would not believe her and Father had nothing to add… He was too worried they would find his _special_ books and call him a rebel… It was _such_ a mess… When it looked like they would drag us out of the house like vulgar criminals, _I_ told them you have been infatuated with your victor for years and that, most likely, you had run off with him but that we did _not_ approve of your conduct and that, _naturally_ , if it turned out you had chosen to cut your Capitols ties, we would disown you.” Lyssa made a small face. “Not that I meant it, but…”

“That was _clever_.” Effie hurried in reassuring her, almost surprised her sister had that presence of mind. She would have thought Elindra would have been the one keeping it together or, maybe, their father. But Lyssa? “You were right to say that, of course.”

“They believed _me_ even if Mother did not. She kept saying the two of you had your differences but that you would _never_ dishonor our family like that. The Peacekeepers were so aggressive, honestly, I think she was terrified they would find you and condemn you without giving you a chance to explain. They did not really leave us alone even after that, they kept watching the house, following us…” Lyssa explained in one rushed breath. “Rufus had to use _all_ his connections to keep us out of troubles…” She waved her free hand but the annoyance and irritation was plain on her face. “ And through it all, Mother refused to believe me when I told her you were most likely alright. She was _dead set_ on that fantasy of hers that you had been kidnapped because of your tender heart and were being held prisoner somewhere, perhaps being _tortured_ for fun by those District _animals_...” Effie opened her mouth to rebuke that terminology but Lyssa didn’t give her time to interject. “Anyway… She is… Shall we say… _irritated_ that I have been right all along?”

_Irritated_ must have been one way to put it.

And yet Effie was a bit confused by that story. That her mother would have been the one clinging to her innocence when her sister was so ready to repudiate her – for show or not… And it was so unlike Lyssa to take such obvious pleasure in their mother being wrong…

There was a whole story there she wasn’t privy to, she figured. She had no clue what had happened during the last months, how her family had been forced to endure the war…

“Father was frantic with worry too.” Lyssa added, almost as an afterthought. “He hides it better, though, you know how he is. I think he would have gone bankrupted to get you back if there had turned out to be a ransom after all. I heard them whisper about it, how much money they were willing to spare. It was _quite_ a lot. Father realized you were not _actually_ being held hostage, I think, but he humored Mother to keep the peace. Sometimes he got lost in that game though, it seemed. They were both adrift, it was _very_ disconcerting.”

It seemed, from what she was saying, like her sister had been forced to step up and take care of their parents…

“Lyssa, I am _so_ sorry…” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I _truly_ was worried about all of you. And you should know… I did not know I would be leaving. Haymitch did not warn me or I would have found a way to let you know, perhaps even take you all with us… Plutarch Heavensbee _did_ kidnap me, as it turns out, although I am not sure it does count as a kidnapping since I would have gone anyway had Haymitch asked…” Her eyes glided to the cupboard and its slightly ajar door. How many times had she asked herself that question? Would she have gone if Haymitch had _asked_ instead of _imposed_? Every time she came to the same conclusion. _In a heartbeat_. Of course, she would have. A part of her had been waiting for him to ask before the Quell even started. How to explain that to her family though… The Games were just that to them: _games_. A show on TV. They had never understood how _personal_ it was for her. “The children… I could not…”

“Of course.” Lyssa dismissed with a bright smile that seemed only _slightly_ forced. “I know how much you care for Katniss and Peeta. And Mother _will_ come around eventually. After all… You did not do so bad for yourself, in the end! You victor _is_ someone important now. Why… They are calling him a hero in certain circles, you know. Who knew he had it in him?”

_She_ had known, but that wasn’t the subject at hand and she ignored the vaguely insulting implication that Haymitch wasn’t good for anything. 

She also doubted very much their mother would come around any time soon. Elindra Trinket had a long memory and could hold a grudge like the best of them. “I _am_ sorry I caused you so much worries and problems.”

“No matter.” Lyssandra insisted. “I won’t claim I was not angry at the time but, _naturally_ , I forgive you, darling. And this… This is _wonderful_. And _very_ unexpected.” Lyssa let go of her hand to touch her stomach. “You must be _thrilled_.”

Effie found herself grinning. “I am. It was not planned but… Oh, I am so _happy_ you are here!”

War had a tendency to put things back into perspective. She didn’t care so much that Lyssandra had always been the favorite or that she had spent her whole life trying to live up to her anymore. She was just happy to be able to share this with her. That they were both alive and healthy enough to be able to.

She was lucky enough to _still_ have a sister…

“I should have come sooner.” Lyssandra admitted, a little sadly, taking her hand off her stomach before Effie could tell her she was expecting triplets and turn this into the sisterly moment she longed for. “Truthfully, I would have but Mother forbade Father and I from answering your letters and she is _so_ upset… I believe Mother feels you are being snobbish _summoning_ us instead of coming to her… I will… I will explain to her you cannot come home just yet, she will understand. It is for medical reasons, after all, not an intended slight…”

“I did not want to tell you all in a letter.” Effie repeated for the second time. She had wanted to announce it face to face – or rather to let them see for themselves.

“I know.” Lyssa forced a grin. “And I am sure she _will_ understand and not be mad at all. The war… The war shook her, you know, you would not recognize her. There were moments I thought she was growing _insane_. She kept insisting the phone would ring and the rebels would demand a ransom any day… She lost a lot of friends because of your associations, you know. We were socially shunned. We _still_ are in some circles.” 

The guilt was strong.

She had, of course, worried about her family but she hadn’t spared a thought for them _every_ day.

They were not that sort of family. Not the sort of family she wanted to have, the one they already had with the children. They weren’t _close_.

And she had _never_ expected Elindra to worry _that_ much. Truth be told, she had thought her parents would barely notice her absence…

As for the social inconvenience… _This_ , she didn’t care about as much.

“I would like to see her.” she insisted. “I know we had our differences but…” She caressed her stomach. “I would like to put as many of them aside as possible before I give birth. Family… Family is _important_. I want her to be a proper grandmother.”

A proper grandmother her babies would _not_ see often.

Because she was scared of Elindra’s influence.

Still… She would like for her family to be a part of her children’s lives.

“I will tell her.” Lyssa promised. “Of course… We _have_ some issues at home and she insists on staying with the boys… She has been a _tremendous_ help with them. She _dotes_ on them, as you know.”

“Issues?” Effie frowned. “Is Father alright?”

“Father is fine. He is trying to salvage what he can from the business. The rebels would bleed us dry.” her sister retorted. That veiled hostility flared up again in her voice, that _disgust_ that was barely perceptible every time she used the word _rebel_. “No, the problem is… _Oh, Effie_ , you _have_ to help us… You are my _only_ hope! After all… You _must_ have some weight with the Mockingjay, don’t you? _Surely_ the girl wouldn’t refuse you a favor? You are her escort and you left _your family_ behind for her… She _has_ to repay you in some way…”

And, just like that, Effie’s elation came crashing down.

The smile froze on her lips before she caught herself and strained it into a small polite one. She slammed the escort’s mask back on her face, retreated into the bubbly persona that helped her take some much needed emotional distance…

_Of course._

She should have known better.

That was more an Elindra move than a Lyssa move but… She supposed if their mother was as disturbed by the war as Lyssa claimed, it made sense her sister would take up the mantle herself.

Her family could have come to visit her at _any_ point since she had arrived in the city. It had been close to a month and a dozen letters that Haymitch made sure were delivered by rebel dispatch riders. But Lyssa hadn’t showed up in the last few weeks, she chose to show up _now_ when she needed a favor from the rebellious sister whose ties she clearly disapproved of…

“Katniss is not in the business of doing favors. Not to me, not to anyone.” she said, keeping her voice pleasant, almost cheerful. “Nor am _I_ in the business of asking children in my care to sort my family problems for me. Or _my own_ , for that matter. That is not why I take care of her. She is _my_ girl _before_ she is the Mockingjay.”

She caught movement in the cupboard but Lyssa didn’t notice and the girl didn’t come out.

“I see.” Her sister pursed her lips, her features hardening in an unfamiliar expression. She had never seen Lyssandra quite like that. Pretences and dissimulations weren’t her things. Lyssa was as straightforward as they came and usually genuinely nice to the point of being sickening. At that particular moment though, the physical resemblance with their mother was _striking_. “So you will put _strangers_ above us? You _refuse_ to help your family, _your nephews_ , in our time of need?”

“I did not say _that_.” she argued, feeling tired all of a sudden. She hadn’t missed bickering with her sister. She hadn’t missed the feeling of being inadequate that always went hand in hand with her presence. And she _certainly_ hadn’t missed having to defend herself for caring about other people more than she cared about the so-called _Trinket legacy_. Most of all though, she was too worn out from the war and too exhausted by her difficult pregnancy to fight with Lyssa. “What is it you want, dear?”

She had mentioned Father was struggling to keep the family company afloat. Perhaps, if it was about that, she could have a word with Plutarch. He might have ideas and he might know the right people to pitch them to. 

Lyssandra watched her for a moment and then her shoulders slouched and the cold mask slipped off her face, allowing Effie to see just how exhausted and devastated her sister _really_ was. “Rufus was arrested two days ago. The rebels government refuses to tell me _anything_. I have seen the trials on TV… I have heard the rumors… I am scared that…” Her sister bit her bottom lip hard. “You _know_ what will happen to him if they drag him to court. We hired a lawyer and he said it was a lost cause. But you… You _know_ the rebels. You are one of them. You know the _bloody_ Mockingjay. _Please_. You must _do_ something.”

It was the first time she could remember hearing her sister swear.

She wasn’t unsympathetic…

And yet, unfortunately…

Effie winced. “If they have already arrested him…”

She let her voice trail off. Rufus should have had the presence of mind to run. Plutarch had told her some others had – former Gamemakers and escorts who had realized in which direction the wind was blowing – she even suspected the former Head Gamemaker had helped a few of them get away from the Capitol.

Rufus was so arrogant though…

He must have thought his name and his money would be enough to protect him, to give him enough respectability to buy his way out.

As if the rebels cared for money. All the Districts wanted was justice. _In blood._

“He was a Gamemaker for ten minutes almost ten years ago.” Lyssandra snapped. “You _cannot_ tell me…”

“I am not saying it is _fair_.” she cut her off, rising her voice too. “Although if you want my opinion, some deserved it _less_ than your husband did. You know _very well_ he has a taste for young victors…”

Being a Gamemaker had only meant he got to sample them for free.

Officially, he had retired after two years when he had realized working wasn’t for his delicate wealthy sensibilities. In truth, Seneca had fired him. She remembered that day very well because, afterwards, the two of them had spent a whole evening discussing it and gleefully rejoicing around an exceptionally fine bottle of white wine.

“How _dare_ you!” Lyssa screeched. “My husband has _never_ been unfaithful!”

To be so blind…

Her husband had slept with half the city and he would have slept with _her_ too if she had ever given in to his unwanted and unsolicited advances. Rufus could _certainly_ be charming at times and he had always made sure Lyssa and the boys were happy but Effie would never claim he was a good person. A good father, perhaps, she could grant him _that –_ nobody would be able to deny he loved his boys more than anything. But did that make up for everything else?

“My apologies.” She tried to sound sincere. “I am sorry for you and I am even more sorry for your sons but there is _very_ little _I_ can do about it.”

Her sister was _irate_.

“Don’t you sit here and tell me you have no resources. Your _victor_ …” Lyssa argued, spitting the word out with that same disgust she put on the word _rebel_ or _District_.

“My _husband_.” Effie interrupted again, briefly shocking her sister into silence. It had been a reflex to correct her, really. They had been selling the marriage thing very thickly at every given opportunity. 

Again, she caught some movement in the cupboard from the corner of her eye but Katniss did not seem like she would come out and, at this point, it was probably better. She didn’t want a confrontation between the girl and Lyssandra.

Lyssa was too busy glaring at her to notice any odd movement though.

“ _Well_!” her sister scoffed. “At least I won’t have to tell Mother you are having a child _out of wedlock,_ although given the father I am not sure she will be particularly glad to hear _that_.” Her sister seemed to remember this wasn’t the best way to get her to help and let out a long deep breath. “I _apologize_. I have been running everywhere for two days and getting doors slammed shut in my face at every turn. I am… I am exhausted. And _terrified_. Those trials are _shams_ …”

“I _know_.” she offered, placing both hands on her pregnant belly almost protectively. She forced herself to calm down. “I _am_ sorry you are going through this. And the boys…” Lyssa’s face hardened again as she realized what Effie was trying to tell her. “ _Believe me_ if I thought Haymitch could help…” Well, actually, she doubted Haymitch _would_ have helped even if he had been able to. He _hated_ her brother-in-law. And with good reason. He had witnessed the man’s attempts at groping her one time too many. “You have to understand…”

“Oh, I understand _perfectly_.” her sister snapped. “You _never_ liked Rufus. You were always _jealous_ of our happiness.”

That was so unfair…

“You cannot have it both ways, Lyssa. Either I was jealous or I never liked him. Do not be _preposterous_.” she mocked but immediately regretted it. “Lyssa…”

“You are so full of yourself.” Lyssandra snarled. “Mother was _right_. She said you would not help but I told her we are your family, _of course you would help_ …” She shook her head. “I should have known _better_ than to expect anything from someone who chose _urchins_ and _drunken oafs_ instead of their own blood! How can you be so _cruel,_ Euphemia? He is the father of my children. You should understand what that means. _Now more than ever,_ you should…”

“Lyssa. I was _an escort_ , in case you forgot, those trials are a threat to me too.” she interrupted, gritting her teeth and deciding, again, to let the insults slide. “Haymitch’s priority is _my_ safety and…”

“As if they would touch _you_! You sided with those _wretched_ rebels! You made sure you were warming one of their leaders’ bed so nothing bad would happen to you!” her sister shouted. _A lady never rises her voice_ , she was tempted to remind her. “You got yourself pregnant with _his little bastard_! Did you _plan_ that too? Is that _half-breed District dog_ in your belly _insurance_? You make me sick!”

If Effie had been able to bolt to her feet, she _would_ have. Instead, all she could do was actually wriggle until she was awkwardly half standing. “ _Do not dare say one word against my babies!”_

Lyssa, on the other hand, had no problem being swift and she was already on her feet, pointing an accusing finger at Effie. If she noticed the plural, she thought nothing of it. “Shame on you for being so selfish. _Shame on you,_ little sister. You are dead to me, do you hear me? _You are dead to me_. Do not bother trying to contact Mother and Father again. They will not want to hear from a traitor like you! And do not think to soften them with your _dog’s_ spawn! He is just as worthless as the drunk who seeded him! He will never be welcome in our family!”

Lyssa stormed out, slamming the door behind her, well before Effie managed to extirpate herself from the bed. She would have run after her, _she would have_ , because nobody insulted her babies and lived, _nobody_ , not even her own sister, but the sudden clenching in her lower belly made her hiss.

She froze, her anger immediately melting faced with the fear of having more contractions. She waited a long time to see if that pain was a onetime thing, a simple warning from her body, or if it would be followed by more of its kind… When nothing happened, she slowly sat back down, rubbing her stomach with a sniff.

“Do not listen to her, my loves.” she whispered in a cooing voice that she tried to make cheerful and reassuring. She pretended her voice was not unsteady or that her eyes weren’t burning with tears. “Your aunt Lyssa is simply very sad. She called you bad words but she did not mean it. Of course, she did not.” _Of course, she did._ “It will be alright, my loves, you will see. Everything will be _just_ fine.”

The cupboard door squeaked open and Katniss slowly came crawling out. The girl didn’t say anything, she came to sit on the bed next to Effie, pressing close to her side, and rested her head on her shoulder.

It was the first time her victor had initiated contact in all the instances she had come hiding in her room.

Effie wanted to say something comforting, something _meaningful_ , but her mind was empty.

All she could do was hold her stomach, swallow back her tears, and carefully lean her head on top of Katniss’, mindful of the burns.

What did she care if she wasn’t welcome home anymore? It hurt, yes. She wasn’t immune enough to wanting her parents’ approval to deny it hurt. But what did she care when she had her babies and the children and Haymitch? They were the most important things in her life. _They_ were what mattered.

Did she understand Lyssa’s anger? Yes, she did. Because if the situation had been reversed, if the Capitol had won and Haymitch had been captured and certain to face execution, she would have begged at every door, slept with everyone who would have her, left no stone unturned to secure his release. _She understood_.

But the situation was not reversed and her family wasn’t limited to the one she had been born into.

She closed her eyes, let Katniss’ strange humming appease her, and stroked her belly, pouring as much love to her babies as she could, clinging to the belief she had done everything she could for the family she had made for herself.

That was how Haymitch found the two of them an hour and a half later.

He wasn’t entirely pleased to see them both upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like today's guest? I hope you enjoyed the reunion more than Effie did haha! Let me know your thoughts!


	23. Chapter 23

The screwdriver slipped through his fingers for the fourth time that day.

Haymitch shook his hand with a muttered curse and curled it into a fist, squeezing as tight as he could in hope it would lessen the tremors. It was stupid, of course. If he had learned anything it was that the shakes would go when they would go. They would leave him alone, perhaps for a few days, before randomly coming back.

He had covertly showed his hands to Steve while Effie was sleeping and asked him if he would be a danger to the babies. What if he started shaking when he was holding one? The doctor hadn’t seemed too concerned. He had told him that tremors didn’t _suddenly_ happen and, most likely, he would be able to tell _before_ he picked up a baby if it was a good time for that or not. The man didn’t seem to think he would drop any of his children and accidentally kill them, which was, he supposed, a vote of confidence not everyone was willing to extend.

“Do you need help?”

He looked up.

Peeta was standing in a corner of the nursery, putting the finishing touches to his mural, and was watching him a bit too intently. It made a shiver run down Haymitch’s spine and put all his senses on high alert, as if the boy was about to pounce on him and…

Peeta shook his head and the moment passed, the boy offered him a small strained smile.

“I’m good.” he grumbled. “Maybe open the window, yeah?”

Because the paint fumes were mostly gone, since they had finished most of the painting work three days earlier, but it was still slightly intoxicating when they were locked in the room. He would rather risk pneumonia that have the boy triggered in such a closed space.

Besides, he didn’t want his kids’ nursery stained with blood, even if it was only from a bloodied nose.

While Peeta did what he was told, particularly careful with the brand new window panes that had cost Haymitch a pretty penny since glass was in such high demand right then and Effie’s place had _dozens_ of them, he picked up the screwdriver again, willing his hand to obey him and the stupid pieces of wood to cooperate. The third crib had been giving him troubles since that morning.

The other two had been pushed in a corner for now and looked good enough. They were identical, he didn’t understand why this one was resisting so much. _Fucking_ Capitol furniture…

“I’m done.” Peeta announced after five more minutes. “Do you think Effie will like it?”

He glanced around at the finished product he had seen taking shape for days. Doctor Aurelius had heartedly approved Peeta finding an artistic project and had even supplied the paint – which Haymitch hadn’t objected to because, again, paint’s price had skyrocketed. He had been a little wary of leaving Peeta unsupervised in a room while he took care of cleaning and repairing the rest of the place but it had worked out quite well in the end. No episode, no relapse so far, and the boy seemed to have really enjoyed himself.

And the two soldiers who had been assigned to shadowing him everywhere had found their use helping _him_ carry out broken furniture and new necessary stuff in.

“It’s perfect.” he sincerely said. “Thank you, kid.”

They had painted the walls a very light shade of green, so light it looked white at certain times of the day when the lightning changed, and Peeta had painted woods all around the room. Not oppressive woods, either, it was all very nice, a bit cartoonish, very light… When you stood in the middle of the room, it was like standing in the middle of a dream clearing… And there were so many details… Here a brown fluffy rabbit, a bird perched on top of the window, there a squirrel…

Peeta grinned and dismissed the thanks with a careless wave of his hand before dropping on the floor next to him, studying the various screws scattered around and the sheet of instructions.

“It’s too bad the room is a bit small.” the boy remarked. “It works for a nursery but in a few months…”

“Hopefully none of us are still gonna be there in a few months.” he muttered.

He couldn’t wait to leave the Capitol. It was very obvious nobody would let him anywhere near any seat of power, not even Paylor, and he wasn’t interested in playing the perfect rebel victor for the cameras forever. He did it for now because it spared the others and Johanna was still a bit too unpredictable to be trusted on live TV, but he didn’t like it.

“Are we going somewhere?” Peeta joked, frowning. “Katniss said… _You_ said…” The boy stopped and licked his lips, hesitating. “Home’s gone. Real or not real?”

“ _Twelve_ ’s gone.” he confirmed, watching him cautiously without seeming to. “To the risk of sounding like a sentimental idiot, home’s where your family is, kid.” He shrugged. “Effie and I were thinking Four before... Well, Annie’s gonna want to go back there eventually anyway so… Seems like a good idea to all stick together. She and Effie have that pregnancy club going on.”

“Oh…” Peeta shifted so he was sitting crossed-legged, tilting his head a little.

“If you don’t like Four, we can go somewhere else.” he added quickly. “I talked to Katniss about it once, she wasn’t against it. But you like some place woody better we can look into Seven or… They’ve got woods in Two, right?”

He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of moving to Two, though. He had never taken any particular liking to anyone from Two.

“I think they have woods in some parts of Four…” Peeta frowned. “I just… You want me to come with you?”

He scoffed and stopped pretending he was studying the instructions to look straight at the boy. “Didn’t I make it clear you’re family, boy?”

“Yeah, but…” Peeta argued.

“We can find houses close together.” he decided. “They’ve got a Village, maybe we can look into that. Or we can find something big enough for all of us. Depends what you want to do. Live alone or with us. Maybe we can find something with an independent studio or something. We could look into building, too. The two of us, we could have it done in a few months… Katniss’s got her mom so I don’t think she will want to live with Effie and me but _you_ could if you…”

Peeta moved so fast, Haymitch didn’t have time to brace himself for the attack.

Adjusting his grip on the screwdriver so he could use it as a weapon was a reflex but it was a good thing he didn’t wield it because in the split second after the boy pounced on him, Haymitch realized he wasn’t trying to _kill_ him.

He was hugging him.

Slowly, Haymitch hugged him back, not quite sure what had triggered _that_ response.

After a moment, Peeta drew back and cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. “My family… They didn’t want to move with me to the Village. Not even if it meant being rich.”

He didn’t like thinking about the Mellarks. He had liked the man well enough but the wife… “They were idiot who couldn’t see what they had under their own nose. Trust me, both Effie and I know what’s that’s like.”

He was still _fuming_ her sister had pulled that sort of stunt on her. When he had found her and Katniss huddled together a couple of days ago, he had been ready to storm out and kill Rufus Flavershym himself just to get some sort of payback. Effie had contained herself until he had convinced the girl to go back to her room to get some sleep but after that… He had gotten a little used to seeing her cry because she was hormonal but watching her crumble in his arms was never pleasant.

She had gotten too worked up.

She had been having contractions again.

They had passed the eighth month mark, at least. But that wasn’t guarantee of anything. Apart for the fact he needed to get a move on and finish getting her place ready.

“You never talk about your family…” Peeta hesitated.

His face closed and he busied himself trying to get the screwdriver to cooperate with his shaky hands by getting that screw in. “Not much to tell. It was just me, my baby brother and my ma. They’re dead.” It was useless to add that, he figured. “Snow didn’t like the way I won my Games.” He swallowed hard and answered the real question Peeta hadn’t asked. “My dad, though. He was a piece of _shit_. Left us when I was five. Hayden was just a baby.” He shrugged. “Kicked the bucket a long while ago.” He shook his head. “Was a drunk, see? Piece of _shit_. Let’s hope being father of the year ain’t genetic.” He snorted. “I’m gonna suck at this but I _do_ intend to stick around and do it sober. That’s gotta count for something.”

He didn’t dare look at the boy. He had said more than he had intended.

He didn’t share his fears, not with Effie, not with anyone. He would have talked to Chaff about it, to Finnick maybe if the boy hadn’t… But he didn’t want to burden Effie with that right now. Johanna wouldn’t be helpful and all the others were too young or still too idealistic to understand.

He was a killer.

How could you be a father when you were a killer?

And then, there were the night terrors that had started again in earnest… In Thirteen, the nightmares had abated a lot, to the point he had gotten used to going entire nights without them. Ever since the City Circle bombings… It had been a month and he only snatched an hour or two of sleep here and there. The only time he actually lied down was when Effie forced him to use the couch in her room.

He only used the room that had been assigned to him in the Mansion to wash and get changed. He kept tossing the liquor away and it kept coming back. He wasn’t interested in playing that perverted game. He wasn’t sure he could win it.

There were days he stared at the decanter full of its amber liquid and he was _drooling_ …

He didn’t trust himself to spend large amounts of time alone in there. He was safer in Effie’s room.

“You’re going to be great.” Peeta offered. “And I know because you _already_ are.”

‘Right.” Haymitch turned that screwdriver harder. “If I was, I’d have gotten you out of that arena. Katniss wouldn’t have half-burned to death.”

And Finnick and Prim would both be alive.

Peeta’s hand encircled his wrist, stopping him from drilling that screw far too deep.

“That was out of your control, Haymitch.” the boy reminded him calmly. He opened his mouth to argue but Peeta squeezed his wrist. “Look, was I pissed you went behind my back and kept secrets again? _Yes_. But that’s what you do when you want to protect people… It’s not healthy and I don’t like it but I know it comes from a good place. That you were just trying to protect me and Katniss the best you could.” The boy tugged on his wrist until Haymitch caved and met his blue eyes. “You never gave up. Not on me. Not on her. That’s all that matters. You stuck by me even when I didn’t want you to. And I… I _love_ you for it. And so does Katniss. _Probably_. I mean, you would have to ask her. It’s all blurry. But I’m pretty sure anyway.”

There was a lump in his throat that he did his best to swallow. His voice still ended up sounding rough and a bit raw. “Now, don’t get all mushy on me, kid. You sound like Effie.”

Peeta chuckled. “There are worse things to sound like.”

He smirked. “Probably, yeah. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Peeta shook his head but got the message and moved to the big cardboard box that had been sitting untouched in the hallway. They worked in silence after that that. He finished the crib and Peeta got the changing table up in record time.

The paint was dry enough when they were done that they started putting the furniture in place – or, at least, trying to find a place for them.

“It looks like a baby jail.” he grumbled unhappily, surveying the three cribs lined up against the wall with his hands on his hips.

“Let’s try like this…” Peeta suggested and moved everything again.

When the boy was done, there was a crib against each wall and the changing table under the window. It wasn’t the worst arrangement but it did leave little room. Effie’s place was spacious but apartments in the city were rarely enormous unless they were on the City Circle – and those were all gone now. A place like this one would already be pretty expensive, he figured, so the small spare room was something they would have to compose with.

“If you put a rug and maybe a cozy chair in the corner…” Peeta hesitated. “You’re going to want a place to sit in there… We could put up some shelves on too… Paint them white. And we need a dresser…”

“No room for a dresser.” Haymitch countered. “The cupboard in the hallway, it’s full of linens, we can use that one and move the sheets and all to her walk-in closet. It’s mostly empty now.”

The walk-in closet had looked like a crime scene when he had entered the apartment the first time and he was glad she hadn’t seen it. What hadn’t been stolen, had been torn to pieces. Altogether, he had been able to save perhaps three couture dresses, a few of her plainest nightgowns and a couple of coats that would come in handy. Everything else was gone. From her shoes and bags collection, there was almost nothing left. He hadn’t found a single piece of jewelry but the music box she had begged him to look for had been abandoned on the floor, cracked but otherwise in good enough condition that he was planning on trying to fix it when things would calm down. He had also found a violin case kicked under the bed, violin included, and she had wept for half an hour when he had told her. He hadn’t been aware she could play an instrument but apparently it came from her grandfather and it was invaluable – sentimentally _and_ literally.

He had put the apartment to right as best as he could and he hoped she would approve.

Aside for the nursery, they hadn’t been able to paint everything. The best he had been able to do was wash the walls. They looked better but some of them still showed traces of abuse. The broken furniture was gone, he had replaced what he could with what he could find, which meant nothing matched at all, and he had saved as much of her personal stuff as could be salvaged. He had done his best.

He still wasn’t sure it was good enough for his babies.

“That works.” Peeta approved. “Do you have clothes for the babies and everything?”

He shook his head. “That’s next on my list. I was thinking of trying a few shops on the way back to the Mansion.”

It was hard to find anything in the city now. And Capitols were a bit reluctant to sell to District people on account of District people looting and beating a lot of people to death in the aftermath of the taking of the city.

And that went without mentioning he was trying to be _discreet_. Fortunately, Annie gave them all an _excellent_ cover. When people asked him why he wanted baby furniture or baby clothes, he laid it all at Four’s victor’s door.

“They need toys too.” the boy pointed out. “Can I come? I want to buy them all some stuffed toys.” Peeta paused. “Wait… Do I have any money left?”

“We _all_ still have our money. And we can thank Plutarch for it.” he sighed unhappily. “He secreted it all away.”

“Why are you so angry at Plutarch?” the boy asked him as they closed all the windows so they could leave. “I noticed. And Jo doesn’t know. Or she doesn’t want to tell me.”

“Complicated.” he mumbled vaguely.

He didn’t want to tell them all about the truth of the bombings.

_How_ was he supposed to tell them? How was he supposed to tell Katniss just _how_ _badly_ he had failed her?

He would have to at some point but… Not now.

“That’s what you say when you don’t want to answer.” Peeta remarked. “You could _just_ say you don’t want to answer, you know.”

“I don’t want to answer.” Haymitch deadpanned. “ _Yet_.”

The boy let that sink and then shrugged. “Okay.”

They stopped at a few shops on their way back to the Mansion. Haymitch had intended to be quick but Peeta, it turned out, was worse than Effie when it came to shopping. He forced Haymitch to consider stuff, to pay attention, reminding him that it was for his babies and that he should try and find _cute_ things. Why babies needed cute things when they weren’t aware of what they were wearing and when they would end up pooping or puking on it was anyone’s guess but…

He had to navigate through all the ridiculous outfits the Capitol shopkeepers tried to force on him in the name of fashion but he found a few things he thought Effie would like and that didn’t make him want to scream in horror.

The toy store was even worse.

Mostly because Peeta got him into it.

It started with polar bear stuffed toys, then Haymitch found the plushy stuffed kittens and remembered about that white cat Effie used to have a few years earlier… So naturally he _had_ to buy one. Then they found a _huge_ stuffed giraffe they decided would look great in the nursery despite the lack of space or the fact it didn’t match the wood _décor_ … When Peeta stumbled upon a stuffed Mockingjay he froze and, for a second, Haymitch thought he had lost him, but the boy came back to himself with a deep breath and, even though he was strangling the bird, he insisted on buying it on Katniss’ behalf.

All in all, by the time they reached the Mansion, they were carrying enough bags to draw stares.

Peeta excused himself as soon as they passed the gates, mumbling something about going to see Doctor Aurelius. The Mockingjay had triggered him after all, Haymitch mused, but he was controlling himself better and better, which was good.

Johanna and Effie were bickering when he barged in the room, struggling to carry everything by himself, and both women stopped to gape at him.

“Embracing the Capitol life, _Mr_ _Trinket_?” Jo mocked.

Haymitch made a face at her but Effie, he noticed, bit back an amused smile.

She still looked tired.

“Blame the boy.” he grumbled. “Thought he was gonna buy the whole shop.”

“Show me everything!” Effie demanded. He wasn’t surprised she put some of the plainest clothes aside for him to return but, for his nonexistent taste in clothes, she declared he hadn’t done a bad job.

“Don’t they get suspicious when you buy most of the stuff in three?” Johanna asked, fishing a pink and white dotted romper and watching it with obvious distaste. He had bought only _one_ pink version of that outfit but it was true he tended to take the more gender neutral ones in packs.

He shrugged. “They’re happy enough to take my money. Not many takers for baby stuff right now.”

“I bet.” Jo scoffed. “That’s cute.” She was holding tiny brown overalls. “Pair it with a flannel shirt and it’s just like home. Did you get flannel shirts?”

She rummaged in the remaining bags.

Johanna’s interest for fashion was something he always did his best to forget about. She had always been the only one of his friends he had never heard complain about being forced to dress up for parties.

“Didn’t get _shirts_.” he answered. “Just one-piece things…” He look at Effie and made a face. “Was I supposed to get shirts? Thought the rompers things would be easier…”

“Easier but not prettier.” she hummed, glancing at the overalls Johanna had yet to relinquish. “Weren’t there prettier colors? No matter. Jo is right. With the right shirt it _could_ be really cute.”

“The boys’d look like little lumberjacks. And the girl… Well, she’s gonna look like me.” Johanna cackled. “ _Fuck_ this, you know what… I’m taking Annie shopping tomorrow. I’m getting flannel shirts for yours and we’re buying Annie’s a pair of those as well…”

“Oh, if you _truly_ go, won’t you be a dear and find some cute dresses for Amy?” Effie begged, shooting Haymitch an apologetic look. “I know you do your best, darling.” He was immediately dismissed again from the conversation. “And _do_ see if you can find more of those cute plain rompers but maybe in pastel colors and not in white?”

_Terrifying_ , Haymitch mused, watching the two of them tear through the baby clothes and discussing what to send back and what to buy more of. _Absolutely terrifying_.

Fortunately, Johanna lost interest when Effie started sorting through the stuffed animals and the toys the babies would be too young to use for a few good months. He wasn’t entirely too sad to see Seven’s victor go, even if he felt a little guilty about that.

He tossed armfuls of clothes and stuff toys on the couch to clear some space and squeezed himself in the narrow spot between her side and the edge of the mattress, forcing her to scoot over a little to give him some room.

“Any pain today?” he asked, stifling a yawn in her shoulder. He brought his legs up on the bed, ignoring her complaining about shoes on the blankets.

“No contractions.” she deflected. “But your children are using my bladder as a soccer ball.”

“Bad children.” he mumbled, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Tired, darling?” she asked, slightly amused.

“ _Fucking_ exhausted.” he admitted. “Nursery’s finished. Well… The kid says it’s missing a chair…”

“We _do_ need a chair, I think.” she agreed. “They will wake up at night and I will have to feed them either way… It would be more comfortable…”

“Speaking of feeding them… Steve said we should look into formula.” Haymitch said.

“Breastfeeding is better.” she argued. “It is in every of those pregnancy books.”

“Three babies.” he reminded her, leaning down just enough to drop a kiss on her breast. “Your tits got bigger, true, but I don’t think you’ve got enough for three all the time. Maybe we can take turns… You feed one every day and the other two get formula for that day…”

“I suppose.” she pouted. “I simply want to do it _right_.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” he automatically promised, resting a hand on her stomach.

He had his doubts but… She needed him to reassure her and that was what he would do.

She distractedly tugged on the token around his wrist. The bangle was battered and scratched from its time in the arena. He didn’t let himself think about that, though. About _Finnick_. It hurt too _fucking_ much to think about the boy.

“Rufus’ trial was today.” she told him hesitantly. He started to lift his head but she trapped it by resting her cheek on his temple so he had no choice but to settle down. “I did _not_ watch. Plutarch came to tell me. It went as was expected.”

So Flavershym was dead, then.

No real loss there.

He might not approve of the Purge but there were people he wasn’t sorry to see dead and he made no apologies for that.

“You’re good?” he asked.

He knew she had no love lost for her brother-in-law but he had been married to her sister for… He wasn’t actually sure but it must have been close to twenty years. The guy may have been a slime ball but he had still been her family. 

“I am sad for Lyssa and the children.” she confessed. “I cannot imagine… The boys are _so_ young… He _did_ love them. They were everything to him. I wish I could be there for them, you know.”

“Probably not a good idea right now.” he pointed out.

“I know.” she sighed with a small shrug. “I wrote to Mother again yesterday. No answer. I thought perhaps now that Lyssa had told her I was expecting…” She shook her head. “I did not tell her we were having triplets. They do not even know…” She sighed again. “Why does family have to be so complicated?”

“Doesn’t _have_ to be.” he argued. “ _We_ ain’t doing too bad with ours for now.” Lost and hurt kids notwithstanding. “Peeta’s down for Four, by the way. He’d prefer living with us for now too, I think.”

“Is he? _Wonderful_!” she beamed. “I told Johanna we were thinking about relocating there and she said she’s planning to stay with Annie for now too. At least until the baby is a little bit older. She feels she owes it to Finnick.” Effie’s voice turned sad for a second but she forced some cheer back into it. “Four it is, then. We can all live close to each other. It will be _perfect_.”

“Yeah…” His eyelids were drooping. “Perfect…”

She chuckled. “Are you falling asleep on me, Haymitch?”

He wrapped his arms around her, snuggling closer. “Don’t let me. Dangerous.”

But his mind was already slipping away and it didn’t help when she ran her fingers in his hair. “You sleep. I will wake you up if you start having a nightmare.”

He stopped fighting it, then.

She wouldn’t be able to get away if he _did_ start having a night terror, not like he trusted her to do when he slept in her bed. She was too pregnant and…

But he trusted her to be smart.

He trusted her to put the babies first.

_Fuck_ , he trusted her with everything he had and more…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quality time with papa!haymitch today! I hope you liked it! Let me know your thoughts!


	24. Chapter 24

They both watched the yellow-orange liquid in the drip with some trepidation.

The bag was almost finished.

And yet Effie was still having contractions.

They had begun a couple of hours earlier and didn’t show any sign of abating.

Effie tried to breathe through them, not to squeeze Haymitch’s hand too tight because it laid limp in hers and he looked two seconds away from having a panic attack – or a heart attack – and, above all, she tried to be patient.

“It will be alright.” she promised.

Haymitch’s grey eyes darted from the drip to her and he forced a smile that was clearly _not_ genuine. “Sure, it will.”

The lie was so potent she could almost taste it in the air.

Steve barged in the room without even bothering to knock – not that it really mattered because one nurse or another waltzed in every five minutes to check on her.

“Let me check again.” the doctor demanded more than he requested.

There hadn’t been that much fuss around her and her contractions since their very first scare, when she had almost lost Caleb. The meds weren’t working this time around and they weren’t expecting it to. Nobody had said it yet but it was obvious.

“You water hasn’t broken.” Steve declared, guiding her legs back down once he was done. He stood up and discarded his gloves in a plastic bin by the door. “The problem is… You are showing all the signs of early labor. The contractions, the vaginal discharge…”

“You do _not_ talk about bodily fluids in polite society, Steve.” Effie interrupted through gritted teeth.

Steve looked amused but only briefly. “The pressure you feel, the back pains…”

“Back pains?” Haymitch repeated, sitting a bit straighter. His grip tightened on her hand. “You never told me your back ached.”

She had taken advantage of his going to the bathroom to slip that little bit of news to a nurse. She didn’t want to alarm him more than he already was.

“I am fine.” She lied.

“You are _not_ fine.” Steve argued. “You are in early labor. You are _very_ dilated. I’m not sure we’re going to be able to delay it this time.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She winced through the cramps in her lower belly – not a contraction, contractions were another level of pain altogether, this was more like when she had her period. Haymitch watched her, panic written all over his face, probably feeling helpless. She schooled her own face, hid the pain as much as she could…

Once he seemed convinced it had passed, he turned back toward Steve. “What does it mean? For the babies? It’s… It’s too early. She’s…”

“Well…” Steve lifted his hands, his voice steady and professional. At least one of them was calm, Effie mused, that was something. “We always knew the pregnancy was unlikely to last beyond thirty-two weeks, that’s average for triplets. We _are_ a few days short of that landmark though.” Haymitch opened his mouth but Effie squeezed his hand hard to make him shut up. He shot her a concerned look and she lifted her eyebrows pointedly. He let the doctor continue but he wasn’t happy about it. “We talked about this. We are looking at a C-section delivery. That’s the safest option.”

“Yes.” Effie nodded. She didn’t like the idea of surgery. She had a visceral fear of operating rooms after having seen her mother go through so many plastic surgeries. But she would do what she had to do for her babies. “Does that mean Haymitch cannot be in there with me?”

“We will update Haymitch as soon as each baby is delivered.” Steve promised. “I know it is not the same as traditional delivery but it _is_ really the safest in this case.”

“What happens to the babies?” Haymitch placed his hand on her stomach. “They’re gonna be premature. What does that mean? They could… They could _not_ make it?”

Effie batted his hand away and wrapped her arms around her belly protectively, glaring at him. “They are _all_ going to make it. Do not say things like this when they can _hear_ you, Haymitch.”

“Just trying to be realistic here.” Haymitch snapped. “Don’t know much about babies but I know they’ve got lots of problems when they are born this early. In Twelve…”

“We are _not_ in Twelve.” Effie growled.

“There is never any guarantee with premature babies.” Steve admitted. “ _However_ , Effie is right, this is the _best_ possible place they could be born in. Here, they will have the _best_ of care. I have neonatal specialists on standby. There is _no_ hint that any of the babies has pre-existing problem, so that works for us.”

Effie glared at Haymitch harder. “ _See_?”

“They will need an incubator. I have three already waiting. The Mansion hospital doesn’t have a neonatal ward but we took over a room and had everything brought over from the nearest hospital. We _are_ ready to take care of your babies.” Steve flashed them a small smile. “I’m personally invested now, you know. After all… I almost got punched telling you about them if you remember.”

“How long will they have to stay in the incubator for?” Effie asked, stroking her stomach. She wasn’t really interested in his jokes. He just wanted to make her feel better but… She was too worried. 

“It will depend on their individual condition.” the doctor explained. “One may have to stay longer than the others. But at least a week each, I think. _At_ _least_. Likely, it will be more. You might not be able to hold them for a few days. They will be smaller than other babies, you have to be prepared for that. That does not mean they will _die_ , Mr Abernathy, that just means they will need a little more time to grow and we will provide that for them. The incubator will help them regulate their temperature, it will help them feed and, if necessary, breathe. _Again_ , we have the _best_ specialists on standby.”

“This is scary.” Effie breathed out.

They had always lived so much in the present moment that they had hardly given any thought at all to… _this_. And when they had let themselves think about the babies, it had been about _after_ , when they would be home with them, safe and…

Haymitch moved from the chair to the bed so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She was still irritated with him but she allowed it.

“We are not at the point where I’m comfortable saying we need to have the C-section _now_. If we get even only a few more days, that’s good.” Steve nuanced. “We’ll keep monitoring you closely and if the meds do their work…”

“Haymitch!” Katniss shouted, barging in, a bit out of breath. “I need to talk to you!”

Effie startled, as much because of the sudden intrusion as because it was the first words she had heard Katniss utter in weeks.

“Not now!” Haymitch barked right back, apparently not even realizing how important it must be.

“It’s important.” Katniss retorted as if on cue, completely ignoring the doctor or the pain Effie wasn’t doing a great job at concealing. “I need your help. I saw Snow and…”

“The Mockingjay found its voice, Plutarch’s gonna be happy.” Haymitch snapped. “But I don’t have time for your _fucking_ boy’s troubles right now.” Katniss went suddenly mute. She looked hurt like Effie had never seen her before and she felt Haymitch tensing next to her the moment he realized… “Wait… _Wait_ …”

But it was too late, Katniss took off running.

“ _Shit_!” Haymitch spat, passing a hand over his face. His arm slackened around her shoulders and he got to his feet. “ _Shit_. _Shit_. Effie…”

“Go.” she said at once, pushing him away from the bed. He hesitated, looking from her to her stomach to Steve who stood there very awkwardly. “ _Go_.” she insisted. “I will have them beep you if anything happens.”

He hesitated, leaned in and planted a long peck on his lips. “I’m sorry.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. Try to _think_ before you lash out at her again.”

She shook his head at his retreating back and, once he was gone, redirected her attention to Steve. “Is this a good time to mention there is a lot of cramping?”

They couldn’t give her much for the pain but, true to his word, Steve had her monitored very closely throughout the next few hours.

Haymitch didn’t reappear but Peeta showed up with pastries she didn’t have an appetite for.

She was glad the boy’s visit was short. She was sweaty, it was hard to keep a lid on the pain now even though the nurses and Steve kept telling her they weren’t at the point where the C-section was necessary yet – she had this feeling they were drawing it out as long as possible to gain a hour more, hopefully _a day_ – and it was hard to keep her composure but she was willing to endure it if it meant less complications for her babies down the road.

She was almost glad when Johanna and Annie wandered in because it allowed her to snap at Jo and it was much better to direct her pain into bickering. Annie, the sweet dear, wiped her brow and brought her ice cubes from the kitchens. It was all she was allowed now. Ice chips, just in case they had to operate.

Effie felt almost delirious but she had no fever – she had a nurse check her for it.

They both left long before Haymitch finally showed up again.

“She figured everything out, I think.” he told her, shaking his head. “Found her way to Snow somehow. He must have spilled the beans. They’ve scheduled his execution for tomorrow.”

“So fast?” She frowned, breathing out through the constant cramping.

Not that it _was_ fast. The former President had been waiting for his execution for more than a month so Katniss could do the honors but an event this size couldn’t just be put together in a matter of hours. Unless Plutarch had had everything on standby already.

“It’s dangerous having him around.” Haymitch dismissed. “Ain’t sorry to see him go. _Fucking_ bad timing though. I’m worried the girl’s gonna do something rash. She’s high as a kite right now, there’s no talking to her. I wanted to plan the damage control, _dammit_.” He waved that aside and grabbed her hand, brushing her damp hair from her brow with the other one. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Well, I have not given birth yet.” she deadpanned. She wanted to be strong and collected but her voice broke a little. “I’m tired.”

“I know.” he winced. “I know, sweetheart. You think you can try to sleep a little? Let me call a nurse, yeah? See what we can work out to make you more comfortable…”

There wasn’t much they could do to _actually_ make her comfortable and the night was short. She drifted off sometimes but a contraction always ended up waking her. Haymitch didn’t get a lot of rest either. Mostly because she burst into tears at random moments, too exhausted to even care, and he was forced to comfort her.

She finally managed to properly fall asleep some time close to dawn. She wasn’t sure how long she slept but she woke up to Haymitch gently stroking her cheek.

“I’ve got to go, sweetheart.” he whispered. “Got to take care of Katniss. And Coin’s summoned all the victors. There’s gonna be some sort of briefing before the execution.”

“Why?” she asked sleepily.

“Don’t know for sure.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Can take a wild guess, though. You rest, princess, I’m gonna take care of that snake.”

She didn’t think he meant Snow but she drifted off again before she could demand he be careful.

When she woke up again, contractions were very close together and Steve didn’t look optimistic when he examined her.

“We’ll give it another couple of hours, in case it stops, but if there’s no change I’m taking you up for surgery.” he warned.

At this point, the level of pain she was in, she almost told him to take her _right then_. Her pain threshold wasn’t high and they had long past it. 

She wanted to curl up, close her eyes and try to drift off again. It was all there was to do. In Haymitch’s absence, she clutched a pillow in her fists. There was no real curling up though. And she was a bit ashamed to find herself sobbing, forcing a nurse to cluck her tongue comfortingly and asking her if they could call someone until her husband came back.

She almost begged for her mother, right then. She didn’t know why because Elindra Trinket had certainly never been very comforting even in times of sickness and all she would have done was scold her about how ladies faced everything with a stiff lip. Perhaps _that_ would have helped, however.

She also almost asked for her sister but Lyssa, she remembered belatedly, hated her now so…

There was no one else and the nurse made sorry noises and then left her alone to suffer in peace.

The sound of female voices arguing dragged her out of her pain trance a little while later but, for the first time, she wasn’t happy to see Annie and Johanna. She wanted to be left alone now. Her grip on her dignity was slipping further away with every passing second.

They both looked very smart.

_The execution_ , she remembered, of course they would be expected to attend and look their best.

“Don’t be a sore loser.” Johanna was berating Annie. “And don’t you start lecturing us either. Lover boy’s doing that enough for the lot of you.” Effie opened her eyes to find the two of them much closer to the bed than she had expected. “You’ve looked better, Trinket. Haymitch wants to know if you feel like popping the spawns out or if you can wait after Snow’s dead meat. He can’t get away, the boy’s lecturing his ear off…”

Johanna cackled like it was the best joke.

“What happened?” she asked. Her voice came out frailer than she intended.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Annie cut in before Johanna could answer.

“Your man has more balls than I gave him credit for, that’s what happened.” Jo retorted anyway.

“ _Johanna_.” Four’s victor uncharacteristically snapped. “There’s no need to upset her with this right now.”

“Haymitch…” Effie whispered. She felt a little… Not quite _dizzy_ but… She was so tired. He had told her something before leaving… A reunion for victors… “What happened? What did he do? Is he alright?”

She forced herself to prop herself on her elbow instead of just lying there…

“He’s fine, Effie.” Annie promised, placing a hand on her shoulder. The victor not so subtly pushed her down and Effie went willingly because… She didn’t have the energy to spare. “Everything is fine.”

“ _She_ sure ain’t looking fine.” Johanna pointed out, bowing over her to better study her.

“What happened?” she insisted, reaching out to grab Seven’s victor’s wrist.

Annie winced. “Effie, now’s really not the time for…”

“They asked us to decide if we wanted to hold a last special edition of the Games for the kids of high-profile Capitols.” Jo snickered. “Haymitch’s vote was the tiebreaker. I’ve got to say Katniss saying yes surprised me but _Haymitch_?”

“What?” It made no sense. Haymitch _hated_ the Games. He would _never_ …

Her hand flew to her stomach.

“Don’t worry, Trinket.” Johanna sneered. “Coin said your kids were off the table since they were half Haymitch’s. And also, you know… _babies_. Wouldn’t make for a good show.”

“Haymitch would _never_ say yes to this.” she hissed, making an effort to push the pain aside and _think_. “What happened precisely?”

“Peeta, Beetee and I voted against.” Annie sighed. “Enobaria and Johanna voted in favor. Katniss said she would support it in memory of her sister. And Haymitch… Haymitch said…”

“Haymitch said he stood with his _precious_ Mockingjay.” Johanna taunted. “Ain’t sure how _that_ works out with him having an escort for a wife but there you have it, Trinket… Guess he likes his bird more than he likes you…”

He stood with the Mockingjay?

_Katniss_ …

“Katniss said she was voting yes for Prim?” she breathed out slowly.

“She had a white rose and everything.” Jo snorted. “She finally looked more like herself too.”

_I’m worried the girl’s gonna do something rash. I wanted to plan the damage control, dammit._

_I stand with the Mockingjay_ …

“Turn on the TV, please.” she requested, hauling herself in a sitting position. Annie immediately arranged the cushions so her back was supported. “I want to watch.”

Johanna shrugged but located the remote and turned the screen on. “Gotta go or we’re gonna miss it. Come on, crazy fish.”

Annie shook her head. “I will stay with Effie. I don’t need to be there.”

“Suit yourself.” Seven’s victor snorted. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Front row and all.”

“I’m sure Haymitch had his reasons.” Annie comforted her, once Johanna was gone. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

_Of course_ it didn’t mean he didn’t love her.

What it _did_ mean, she wasn’t sure, but…

Haymitch and Katniss had _always_ had this connection and she was scared that…

By the time the bored rebel commentator who couldn’t hope to hold a candle to Caesar Flickerman was done droning over the footage of the huge crowd gathered to witness the execution and President Coin advanced on the balcony to make her speech, Effie’s breathing had turned into panting.

“I will get a nurse.” Annie offered.

“No. Not yet.” Effie hissed. “I want to see.”

“I didn’t know you hated President Snow this much…” the girl remarked, a bit uncertain.

Effie didn’t answer.

She watched instead.

She watched how angry Peeta looked behind Coin, how gleeful Johanna was, how tense Haymitch seemed…

On the surface, he was the picture of calm but she knew him too well to be fooled…

His hands were bundled into fists in his pockets. She would have bet her life on it.

Katniss finally walked in to the beat of drums, poised and confident in her Mockingjay uniform. She drew back the string of her bow, aiming at the white rose over the President’s heart…

Effie held her breath.

A sharp contraction hit just at the moment Katniss released the arrow and she breathed out abruptly. By the time she took her next breath, Alma Coin was falling from the balcony. _Dead_.

“What…”

Annie was on her feet, looking shocked.

Effie wasn’t even surprised.

But she was worried.

Because the crowd immediately turned into a mob and Katniss was swallowed by it. And if that wasn’t enough, before the livefeed was cut off, the last thing she saw was Peeta and Gale jumping into the fray to get to Katniss. Haymitch was right on the boys’ heels.

“Find out what happened.” she ordered Annie. “Get a soldier in here! Get..” Her sentence ended in an abrupt cry. The pain… _The pain_ … She felt a whoosh of something wet between her legs and then…

Then it was a blur.

Annie running out.

Steve’s face hovering over hers, chiding her about getting worked up.

The hospital’s corridors flashing past…

A mask forced over her mouth and nose…

Then a welcomed darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting baaaaaabies... Or are we? XD Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know your thoughts!


	25. Chapter 25

The rebel soldier unceremoniously pushed him into the Mansion’s ballroom where, it seemed, a lot of higher rebels rescued from the angry mob outside had been gathered. Grumbling under his breath because he wanted to go back out there and finish what he had started: _locate his kids_ ; Haymitch fished a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it on the gash on his eyebrow that was dropping blood everywhere on his face and, more annoyingly, into his eye.

“Haymitch!” Plutarch’s voice covered the general hubbub of the arguing people who surrounded him and, before he could blink, the former Head Gamemaker was standing right in front of him, looking impeccable as always. Clearly, the first thing Plutarch had done when _shit_ had it the fan was run back inside.

“Do you have them?” he asked, before Plutarch could say anything. “Do you have Katniss and Peeta?”

“Yes.” the former Head Gamemaker nodded immediately. “You are injured. There are medics around…”

The Capitol studied the crowd, searching for said medics, ready to hail one of them their way. 

Haymitch dismissed that with a flick of his wrist. “It’s nothing. I fell down.”

Fell down. Almost got stomped on by the stampede. Got a nasty cut on the face and aching kidneys from where someone had accidentally – or not – kicked him.

Without the rebel soldiers who had hauled him back to his feet and dragged him back to the Mansion kicking and screaming…

“The kids.” He focused on the important thing. He had lost sight of Peeta. That was how he had tripped, trying to get a glimpse of blond hair.

“We _have_ them.” Plutarch insisted. “Gale and Peeta got Katniss back. You need to go to the hospital.”

“Why?” He grabbed the man’s arm in concern. “Are they hurt?”

Plutarch was already shaking his head. “They’re all alright. Well.. She bit Peeta pretty bad. And Katniss… The boys said she tried to swallow nightlock. She’s sedated for now and I’m keeping her that way until we can sort out this mess. I have her in isolation in her old room at the penthouse. It’s the best option right now.” The Head Gamemaker’s face closed off and he dropped his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Did you know she would do this?”

“You know Katniss…” he deflected. “She never shares her plans with me.”

Plutarch didn’t look convinced at all. “I told you we could handle Coin.”

“Yeah, like I’m sure people back then though they could handle Snow too.” he scoffed, keeping his voice low.

Plutarch’s jaw clenched. “And what do we do now? One of her lackeys will take her place. Better the devil we know…”

“Better _no_ devil at all. Right before the execution, she asked us to vote about holding new Hunger Games for Capitols.” he retorted and _that_ shut the man up. “What you _do_ , right now, Plutarch, is summon the rebel leaders from every District, _including_ Thirteen. You can represent the Capitol. You hold a council and you agree on a _temporary_ president until we can hold real elections.”

The Head Gamemaker watched him long and hard. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Haven’t been _planning_ anything.” he argued defensively. “But if you ask me, Paylor’d make a great leader. And don’t look so glum, Plutarch, I’m sure you can get away with a cushy ministry. You know Coin’d have gotten rid of you soon anyway.”

Plutarch didn’t look pleased and he was still studying him as if he was just beginning to understand just how much he had underestimated him all along.

Haymitch didn’t know why he was so surprised. It wasn’t _how_ he had been planning it but he _had_ vaguely been planning a coup of some sort. 

“I’ll get the rebel leaders here before someone can shout they are in charge and the sheep fall in line.” Plutarch declared. “Paylor. That is your vote then? You need to go the hospital. You cannot attend this rebel council of yours.”

“I’m not Twelve’s rebel leader.” he argued. “You want Hawthorne for that.”

“It might be better for optics.” Plutarch agreed. “ _And_ it is probably better if nobody realizes just how _heavily_ you stirred the pot with Katniss just having shot our new President and all. Now, get to the hospital. I will tell you as soon as everything is settled. And keep me updated on your end, would you?”

“Why are you so desperate to get me to the hospital?” he grumbled, lifting the handkerchief from his face. The blood flow hadn’t stopped. _Dammit_ , maybe the Gamemaker had a point, he would need stitches. “It ain’t that bad. I wanna check on Katniss first and…”

“Haymitch.” Plutarch cut him off, looking a little amused despite everything. “I think you forgot about someone.”

“Who?” He frowned – and that hurt. Peeta had gotten bitten but he was safe, Katniss was locked up and sedated but alive… Annie hadn’t been on the balcony. He had seen Johanna being pushed inside… “What’s in the hospital that’s so important…”

And then he _remembered_.

And he couldn’t _believe_ he had even _forgotten_.

His face must have done something really comical because Plutarch actually chuckled and gave his arm a gentle push toward the ballroom’s double doors. “Well… They do say fathers lose their minds when it is time.”

“Time?” he repeated. “What do you mean _time_? She was… They weren’t sure when I left this morning…”

“They are sure now.” Plutarch shook his head. “I was told she was being taken to surgery. They are delivering the babies.”

That’s the last thing Haymitch heard because then he was running.

The rebels guarding the doors made a fuss about anyone leaving but a quick word from the former Head Gamemaker and he was free to spring down the carpeted corridors, almost tripping and falling a few times.

He was out of breath when he reached the hospital and he must have looked a frightful sight because the first nurse he grabbed gave a shriek. Once she recovered and asserted he wasn’t, in fact, trying to kill her, she led him to a room, sat him down on a bed and went to find answers while one of her colleagues started stitching up his eyebrow.

Annie found him a few moments later, blanching when she saw the blood on his shirt and on his face. “You need to get cleaned.”

“She’s right.” the nurse agreed. “They won’t let you anywhere near premature babies in this state.”

By the time he had located clean clothes and he had washed his face and hands as best as he could, another nurse found him and told him he was a father.

He had to sit down.

The lack of nearby chair didn’t deter him.

He slid straight to the floor and looked at Annie, who was crouching next to him.

“I’m a father.” he told her.

He wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first.

“Can I see them?” he asked the nurse.

“It’s only one for now. They’ve finished examining her. Come on, I’ll show you.” she said. “You have to wait here for now, Miss.”

Annie patted his shoulder and he followed the nurse to the room he supposed Steve had been talking about. _Neonat_ had been written on a piece of cardboard and tapped to the door. 

“What do you mean just one?” he asked, while she showed him how to wash his hands and helped him into a plastic gown, explaining about sterile environment and stuff he didn’t really pay attention to because his mind was all about…

“They are delivering the others as we speak.” the nurse promised. “The specialists will examine them and then they will join your daughter in here.” She led him inside the room where a big plastic tank took almost a quarter of the space. “It can look scary for parents, I know. It is your first time, right? _Don’t_ be scared. She’s fine and we’ll help her grow. They had me brought from the local hospital, we see babies like this _all the time_. I suppose it must be different in the Districts but, here, we have the _best_ technology.”

The nurses sounded very patronizing but he didn’t care because he peered inside the incubator and there _she_ was.

His daughter.

And she was _perfect_.

Too small, a bit yellow, her fingers and toes were so tiny… Her little lips smacked open and closes… She was perfect…

He didn’t realize he was crying until the nurse handed him a tissue.

“Can I touch her?” he asked.

There were holes in the side of the incubator and he figured…

“You cannot hold her yet.” the nurse explained. “But here…”

She guided his forearm through one of the holes, recommended him to be careful of the various tubes… It was all pretty scary. The tubes, the tank… But he would be scared later. For now, he was in awe. The moment his fingers brushed against her tiny ones…

“Hello…” he cooed. Her eyelids opened on the greyest eyes. “Hello, baby…”

“She’s a little fighter.” The nurse grinned. “She screamed without having to be poked, you know. That’s a really good sign. Good lungs.”

Of course she had…

“My little fighter…” He chuckled. He watched the baby and was unable to believe… She was his. _His_.

“Does the little lady have a name yet?” the nurse asked, picking up the chart.

“Amy.” he answered automatically, staring at the little thing who was moving her arms and legs. “Amaryllis.” he corrected because Effie would kill him if he didn’t get it right. “Amaryllis Iris Abernathy.”

“A very pretty name.” the nurse humored him.

Another incubator was rolled into the room then and, eager but feeling slightly guilty about abandoning her, Haymitch took his hand out of Amy’s to approach the new baby. “Which one is he? Which boy?”

The nurse – Cyrelle, he saw on the nametag pinned to her chest – consulted the chart. “Baby B.”

“Brody.” he corrected, peering down at the second baby. “Brody Timotheo Abernathy.” This baby was slightly bigger than Amy, not a lot but enough to be noticeable and he had a tuff of hair on his head. “Is he okay?”

He meant to put his hand in the hole but Cyrelle grabbed his wrist and told him to wash his hands again first. Something about infection. He did as he was asked and came back, eager to meet this one too.

Brody was, for the most part, okay. His breathing was apparently a bit of an issue but, the nurse insisted, that wasn’t uncommon for babies this premature. She was so reassuring and so confident that Haymitch chose to believe her and he focused on his son instead.

_His son_.

His son who was a lot fussier than his sister. He agitated his arms and legs a lot as if he was fighting…

“Are you sure he’s not in pain?” he asked the nurse.

“It’s a lot of stress for him.” Cyrelle explained, not unkindly. “New world. No brother and sister. He will adjust. Try talking to him. He will remember your voice from when he was in the womb. Since you cannot hold them yet, it’s important to establish contact, to let the babies know you’re right here and they’re not alone.”

Still, Haymitch didn’t like seeing him in such discomfort. He carefully stroke the little fingers and hummed the first lullaby he could think off.

“Papa’s here…” he promised. “You don’t need to be scared.” He looked over at Amy from time to time and eventually, with Cyrelle’s help, they pushed the incubators close enough together that he could have a hand in each of them… “Papa’s here…” he repeated, feeling stunned and dazed, elated and terrified, and a thousand things in between. It was a long time before it occurred to him that Brody had arrived five minutes after Amy. “Why is it taking so long for Caleb? Is he okay? My wife? Is my wife okay?”

Cyrelle told him not to worry but she left the room to check and that told him there _was_ cause for worrying.

He kept himself collected though.

If only because he couldn’t lose it now.

Not with two babies on either side of him.

“Your brother’s gonna be okay.” he told them firmly. “You’ll see.”

But he waited there with his babies for a long time. _Too long_. Other nurses came and went, tried to engage him in polite chitchats…

When Cyrelle finally came back, she told him the doctors wanted to talk to him in the corridor.

He could only sit there on the stool they had provided and stare at her, feeling like he was at the edge of a very familiar abyss. He couldn’t even brace himself for the plunge.

“They’re dead.” he heard himself say.

“No.” the nurse said firmly. “They’re both alive. But the doctors want to talk to you. I will take good care of your babies, Haymitch, I promise.”

He hadn’t given her leave to use his first name but Capitols always felt they _knew_ him, that him being a victor meant they had a right to be familiar. The woman inspired trust though and that didn’t happen often so Haymitch reluctantly nodded, hopping he wouldn’t come to regret that decision. 

Steve and a woman in green scrubs were waiting in the corridor. His ears were ringing while Steve introduced her as some topnotch Capitol doctor. He shook her hand, wondering if she had always worn her hair brown or if, like a lot of Capitols, she had dyed it back to its natural color to avoid the rebels’ scorn, wondering if it was important to notice that, wondering why he should trust anything a Capitol had to say…

“Baby A and Baby B…”

“Amy and Brody.” Steve interjected swiftly.

The Capitol doctor corrected herself immediately. “Amy and Brody are both as fine as can be expected.” Amy was in the best shape, it seemed. Brody, as she told it, presented signs of some sort of apnea syndrome that was entirely normal for babies that premature. They needed to watch it but hopefully, it would go away on its own. “Now, baby C…” She looked at Steve expectantly.

“Caleb.” the doctor supplied.

“ _Caleb’s_ situation is a little more tricky.” the woman said, reaching out to squeeze his arm. Haymitch took a step back, automatically pushing every emotion down, closing himself off. “He wasn’t breathing by himself on delivery. We had to resuscitate him.” 

“Cyrelle said… Cyrelle said he’s not dead.” he mumbled, clinging to that hope because…

“He is _not_.” the Capitol doctor said quickly, lifting her hand as if to reach for him again and then thinking better of it. She dropped it. “He is… He is more _fragile_ than his brother and sister, if you will, and we will have to monitor him even more closely. Now, Mr Abernathy… I won’t lie and say I am a hundred percent sure Caleb will make it through but we have _excellent_ results with premature care in the city. We’re making some more tests right now, then a nurse will bring him here and you can meet your son.” She seemed to hesitate. “I understand you don’t know me and you have no reason to trust me given the current… _context_ but… I am the best in my field and I don’t discriminate between babies. I will do _everything_ I can to make sure you go home in a few weeks with three perfectly healthy babies.”

He didn’t know what to think.

He didn’t know what to _feel_.

He was lost.

And he needed…

He turned to Steve who nodded. “I’ve read all of her research papers back in Thirteen. She _is_ the best. You know you’re my favorite patients. I wouldn’t have found you _anyone_ but the best.”

Haymitch rubbed his face and winced when he accidentally touched the fresh stitches. “Can I see Effie? I need… We should tell her about this.” The Capitol doctor politely excused herself and Steve’s face grew serious enough that he knew the bad news weren’t over yet. “Effie’s alright, yeah? She’s…”

“There were some complications.” Steve cut him off and lifted both hands preemptively. “She’s _fine_ and I don’t expect her _not_ to remain that way.”

Haymitch forced himself to breathe regularly but leaned heavily against the wall. “What kind of complications?”

“Because of her medical history…” Steve started and then cut himself off, probably aware Haymitch wouldn’t follow the technical jargon. “She started bleeding heavily after Brody and we couldn’t patch up the hemorrhage before we delivered Caleb. She lost a lot of blood, which we still don’t have on easy supply. If you know anyone with her blood type…”

“Peeta.” he answered automatically.

“Not with _his_ medical history.” Steve shook his head. “We don’t know everything about how the venom works yet. I’m not risking it. Anyone else?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his face again. “I’m not the same type. Katniss ain’t and she’s full of morphling anyway. Don’t know anyone else’s blood type.”

He only knew the kids’ because he had been their mentor. And because they spent their time in one hospital or another.

“Her family?” Steve hazarded.

“They won’t come.” He didn’t even want to ask. “Can have them arrested and dragged here, though… _Force_ them to.”

“Let’s not go that route yet.” the doctor half-joked half-protested. “I will ask around. All the medic staff has been donating blood since the beginning of the war… Some soldier might be willing too.”

“So, she lost some blood…” he said. “But other than that, she’s good, yeah?”

“The blood loss weakened her. And to prevent her from bleeding out I had to…” Steve winced and, again, held off on the technical stuff. “I will go over the details with her later but the gist of it is that she won’t be able to have more children in the future.”

He waited for the rest but that seemed to sum it up so he shrugged. “But she’s fine? She’s gonna make it? She’s… She won’t die, yeah?”

“I expect complete recovery, yes.” Steve nodded. “You can see her soon.”

“Okay.” he breathed out. “Okay, that’s…” Relief crashed over him like a powerful wave and he leaned harder against the wall at his back. “And Caleb… Do you think Caleb…”

The doctor didn’t have any ready reassurance to offer about Caleb.

Haymitch walked back into the neonatal room, after washing his hands like Cyrelle had instructed. He wanted to see Effie – _fuck_ did he want to see Effie – but his instinct demanded he protected his children. And so he went back and stood guard over them.

And the second he put his eyes on them he was enthralled again.

_His babies_.

His daughter.

His son.

It was all so surreal. And they were both so perfect.

He only startled away when they _finally_ rolled the third incubator in the room. He went straight there like moth to a flame.

Caleb _was_ small, smaller than Amy even, small enough that Haymitch started panicking at the sight of him. How could something so _tiny_ survive? It scarcely seemed possible.

“Is he struggling to breathe?” he asked Cyrelle. “Is he in pain?”

There were so many more tubes than for the other two…

The nurse’s smile was a little strained. “He’s fine for now. We’ll watch him closely. You can touch him if you want.”

She gave him some privacy and Haymitch was at a loss. There was his son, in distress, and he couldn’t do a single thing to help. He felt so useless…

“You’ve always got to make entrance, don’t you?” he rebuked the baby gently. “First you show up late to the ultrasound, now this… You’re gonna want the spotlight all to yourself. So much like your mama already…” He watched the small chest lift and fall, it didn’t look quite natural to him. As if the movement was… not forced but… a struggle. “You fight, Caleb, you hear? You’re a survivor. I know you are. Like your mama. Like _me_.” It was the first time in years he had considered that to be a positive quality. But, right then, he would. He _would_ if that meant his son would push through this. “ _You_ _fight,_ baby boy, cause I _ain’t_ telling your mama you slipped away. I _ain’t_.”

He knew it probably was a reflex, something entirely accidental, but when tiny fingers curled slightly around his thumb, he chose to see it as a sign that his son had understood him.

“ _Fuck_ , I love you.”

It came so spontaneously for words that had remained blocked in his throat for twenty-five years.

The nurse made a small _tt-tt_ sound of disapproval at the vulgarity but he didn’t care.

“I love you.” he repeated. He chuckled, his eyes burning with tears that he blinked away. He moved to Brody’s incubator and looked down at his other son. “I love you.” He moved to Amy next, smiling at his daughter. “I love you.”

He didn’t remember ever feeling like this.

He hadn’t even known it was possible.

He felt so full of… _of love_ that he was a little scared he would burst at the seams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haymiiiiiitch! How could you forget about your pregnant wife!!!!! But hey, the babies are heeeeere! In more or less good shape ;) Did you like the chapter? Do you like the babies? Do you feel too that Haymitch is already out of his depth because he's outnumbered? Let me know!


	26. Chapter 26

When Effie’s eyelids fluttered open, something was caressing her cheek. It was quite pleasant but it tickled a little and she turned her head toward it... The thing shifted and stopped stroking to cradle her cheek and she finally connected the dots and realized she was leaning into a palm. Warm and slightly calloused. Familiar.

“Haymitch.” she tried to say but it came out slurred and not quite intelligible.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Haymitch’s voice was soft, softer than she ever remembered it being. “Good of you to finally wake up. It’s been almost a whole day.”

“Has it?” she mumbled. She felt like she was floating very high on a very cozy cloud.

_Drugs_ , she decided, drugs were involved and she was _not_ complaining.

“Yeah.” he chuckled. “Annie sat with you all night. Jo sent her to bed this morning.”

Annie should rest more. The girl wasn’t enormous like she was but she was very pregnant too.

She finally managed to open her sticky eyelids properly and she found Haymitch sitting as close to the bed as the chair would allow him, a weird dreamy smile on his lips, his grey eyes full of tenderness. He looked… _loving_. He had never looked loving before. Well, he had in _certain_ situations but it had always been brief and quickly hidden away behind a joke or a teasing comment.

She wanted to ask what had happened but then she caught sight of the little plaster on his eyebrow.

“You’re hurt!” she gasped, her words still coming out slurred as if they were colliding with each other.

His thumb retrace her cheekbone and the smile got even bigger. “Only two stitches, don’t worry. Eyebrow scars are sexy.”

“Are they?” she whispered, her eyelids drooping a little. How had he managed to get hurt, even? Weren’t they safe? Oh, but he had gotten in trouble, hadn’t he? Because he had… “Katniss!”

“She’s fine.” he said quickly. “Don’t work yourself up.” She didn’t think she would have been able to work herself up even if she had tried. The drug in her system was very potent. Once he was sure she would remain calm, he brushed her cheekbone with his thumb again. “I say fine… She ain’t _that_ fine, to be honest. They won’t let me see her. She’s in isolation. Doctor Aurelius thinks it’s best for now. She’s… She’s suicidal, sweetheart.” She frowned, worried. His smile had faded. “It’s gonna be good for one thing though. We can plead temporary insanity at the trial. Plutarch thinks it’s doable. We can make deals, have her released in her mother’s custody. It can work. Trial won’t be for a while yet though… They’re gonna organize elections first… Which is also good cause it’s gonna take at least that long to get her off that morphling _shit_ …”

Effie only followed half of that. “She’s safe?”

That was the only thing that mattered, wasn’t it? _Suicidal_ … That was _not_ good. And isolation? Was it _really_ the best thing? Wouldn’t the girl be better off surrounded by her family? Well… Perhaps not her mother. But she and Haymitch…

“She’s safe.” he promised, moving his hand from her cheek to her forehead. He brushed back the strawberry blond curls off her face. “Plutarch’s handling it.”

Why was _Plutarch_ handling it? _He_ should be the one…

“Peeta!” she breathed out. Peeta had jumped off after Katniss and if Haymitch wasn’t taking care of Katniss, it must be because he was taking care of the boy.

“Peeta is alright.” Haymitch quickly reassured her. “Got his hand bitten. He had a bad episode too, left him dead on his feet. Sent him to bed. He wanted to sit with you, you know.”

“He’s a good boy.” she murmured, not fighting it when her eyelids started closing again. Her victors were safe. She could sleep.

The sound of Haymitch’s chuckles dragged her back from the slumber that wanted to swallow her and she forced her eyes open to look at him. He was smiling again, that weird soft loving smile.

“You know… I don’t know what it means that we’re both so focused on our kids we forget about our _babies_.” he joked. “Does that mean we’re gonna be terrible parents or does that mean Katniss and Peeta always get in the _worst_ troubles possible?”

She frowned, opening and closing her mouth without knowing what to say, unsure what he was talking about.

Haymitch chuckled some more and leaned down to press a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, those drugs must be really good, _Mama_ …”

_Mama_.

“The babies!” she exclaimed, suddenly feeling _very_ sober. Her hand immediately flew to her belly but Haymitch grabbed her wrist before it could connect.

“Take it from someone who had his stomach sliced open once, you _don’t_ wanna touch, princess.” he mocked with that same tenderness that was shining in his eyes.

She was _so_ confused.

Stomach sliced open.

The C-section.

He must have meant they were…

“They’re not… They’re not _in me_ anymore…” she deduced, fighting to clear her mind.

“Oh, no… They’re very much _out_.” he laughed. “And they’re _fucking_ perfect, sweetheart. The three of them. _Perfect_.”

She met his eyes and, suddenly, she understood why he looked so… _in love_.

“I want to see them.” she immediately demanded, glancing around the room in case she had missed the three incubators. But the room was empty.

“I know.” Haymitch said and his happiness dimmed a little. “You can’t just yet. Steve said maybe tomorrow morning if the pain ain’t too bad.”

That was a blow.

She shook her head, trying and failing to push herself up… Her arms felt so…

“You lost a lot of blood, Effie.” Haymitch explained, easily pinning her down with a hand on her shoulder. “Look, the main nurse who’s taking care of them… She’s nice. For a Capitol. I’ve got her with a tablet. We can call and you can see the babies.”

“You left the babies alone with a Capitol nurse?” she hissed.

“Of course not.” he scoffed. “I left them alone with a Capitol nurse and _Johanna_.”

“Oh.” That placated her a little – although she was not sure she trusted Johanna to look after her children, _protect_ them yes, _look after them_ … – but not enough. “I don’t want a screen. I want to _see_ them. I want to…”

“We can’t hold them yet.” he cut her off, a little sadly. But he perked up. “I’ve touched them though. They’re so…” He laughed again. “They’re _perfect_ , princess.” He smiled at her, entirely unguarded, and leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips. “Awesome job, sweetheart.”

She enjoyed the kiss and the praise but… “You cannot keep me from my children… I want…”

“I know.” he said again. “And I’m sorry… But… Look, there’s stuff we need to discuss, serious stuff. You’re clear-headed enough?”

Was she?

The realization she had given birth certainly had woken her up but… “I just want my babies…” She hated that she felt like bursting into sobs _again_. And yet… “I do not mind if it hurts. Please… Take me to them…”

He opened and closed his mouth then winced guiltily as if he wanted nothing more than to do what she wanted.

“You lost a lot of blood.” he said again. “There were complications.”

“The babies?” she worried.

He hesitated. “Amy is doing really well. She’s small, you’ll see, but she can _fucking_ scream. She’s the only one who’s crying yet. But _fuck_ does she cry… Her mama’s lungs, that one. She looks a little yellow, the doctor said it’s okay though so don’t be alarmed, alright?” She soaked it up, everything he could tell her about her babies… “Brody’s the biggest of the three. He’s a bit stressed though, poor thing… He’s got… He’s got this apnea thing…”

“Apnea?” she repeated, frowning. That didn’t sound good. Not good at all.

“It’s okay.” he said soothingly. “They’re timing it and monitoring. Cyrelle, that’s the nurse… She’s used to working with premature babies and she says Brody’s going well. She says it’s scary but it’s not unusual.”

That woman seemed to have a lot of opinions about her children.

And she wasn’t sure she liked just how readily Haymitch parroted her words.

“And Caleb?” she asked.

Haymitch’s face fell a little. “Caleb… Caleb’s… Caleb wasn’t breathing when they took him out of you.”

Her heart broke in her chest. “You said…”

“They reanimated him.” he explained quickly. “He’s fine now. But the Doctor’s saying… We’ve got to watch his heart. He’s really small, sweetheart. But he’s a fighter. They’re all fighters, our babies. They’re all gonna be _just_ fine.”

“My baby died?” she whispered, horrified.

“He’s _fine_ , Effie.” Haymitch insisted. “And he’s gonna _stay_ that way.” Would he? Or was he just saying that to comfort her? “Now, you…” he continued. “There were complications, like I said. They had to… They had to tie off stuff down there. You can’t… You can’t have any more babies. Not even with treatment, I mean.”

She took the news and rolled with it, not really caring. “With Katniss and Peeta, we have five. I was not planning on having _more_.”

“Right.” he sighed, apparently relieved by her reaction. “Me neither.”

She rolled her eyes. “You _don’t_ say.”

He snorted and made a small face at her. “Mock me, sweetheart. I don’t think I can do anything like this _ever_ again. First time Amy started crying, I cried too. I _keep_ crying every time one of them does something new. The nurses down there think I’m a _weeper_.”

She was sorry to have missed _that_.

“The _indignity_.” she taunted and then tried to sit up again only for him to pin her back down. She shot him a pleading look. “ _Please_. I _would_ sneak you out of your hospital room to see our babies and you know it.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” he argued. “Not if my wound was _that_ serious. Come on, I know it’s not fair and I know you really want them but… Just a few more hours, okay? I promise if Steve says you’re not ready, I’m gonna roll your bed there myself. Who needs wheelchairs anyway?”

A few hours seemed like too much to wait but she swallowed the lump in her throat all the same. “Can I see them? You said you would call…”

“Yeah.” He nodded, reaching for a tablet on the bedside tablet. He tapped on it a few times. “Ready?”

_“Is Mommy ready to meet the children?_ ” a stranger’s sing-song voice asked immediately. Haymitch handed her the tablet and Effie’s latent jealousy decreased a notch. The so-called Cyrelle might have been Capitol but she clearly didn’t belong to the _elite_. She was older than her, older than Haymitch although not by much, and she wasn’t pretty enough for Effie to concern herself with her. _“Hello, Mrs Abernathy. Before I show you the babies, you should know a few things about neonatal care so you are not alarmed…”_

The tablet was abruptly snatched from the nurse’s hands and Johanna’s face appeared. _“Trinket, you_ need _to get your ass down there. They’re_ fucking _cute.”_

_“Miss Mason!”_ the nurse scolded.

But Johanna didn’t hand the tablet back. Effie watched, with trepidation as the camera switched angles, filming first the floor and then the corner of a plastic thing and then… She couldn’t see perfectly because the plastic of the incubator was a bit opaque but…

“Oh…” she breathed out, when she finally spotted the little shape.

“ _That’s Caleb.”_ Johanna said. “ _Bit small. Looks like a baby mouse.”_

“Jo, don’t call my _fucking_ child a _fucking_ mouse.” Haymitch snapped, straining his neck so he could watch with Effie.

“ _Would you all stop swearing in my nursery?!”_ the nurse rebuked off screen.

Effie didn’t care about their bickering. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Hello, baby…” she cooed. Was it her imagination or did the baby move in response. “So many tubes… My poor little boy…”

“The tubes are helping him breathe and feed.” Haymitch explained, his smile dimming. “They told me they’re gonna go in time. That…” His voice trailed off. “He just needs a little more special care, that’s all. He needs to cook a little more. He’s gonna be fine, you’ll see.”

She made a mental note to speak to Steve about Caleb because she had the disturbing feeling Haymitch was downplaying it either for her sake or his own.

“He is _beautiful_.” she whispered, brushing her fingers against the screen, wishing she could touch him. Johanna moved away from the incubator and Effie wanted to scream at her to come back. “Mama loves you, Caleb!” she shouted anyway.

_“Yeah, yeah… We’ve been telling them.”_ Jo grumbled. “ _They’re fussy, your kids. Demand attention all the_ fucking _time. Last time I’m babysitting, Haymitch. Next time, you ask the crazy fish or lover boy cause I_ aint _about doing more than ten minutes_.” For all her grumbling, Johanna sounded almost cheerful by the time she angled the tablet so she could see inside another incubator. _“That’s your girl.”_

“Amy.” she whispered. “Hello, baby girl…”

_“Keeps crying since Haymitch left, this one.”_ Jo complained. _“Believe it or not she_ fucking _sucked on my finger.”_

That was absolutely cute.

And yet… “Please, tell me you washed your hands first.”

_“I won’t let anyone near those babies if their hands aren’t clean.”_ Cyrelle’s voice huffed in the background.

Haymitch snorted but he suddenly sat up straighter, preening like a peacock. “Didn’t say. She’s got grey eyes like me.”

_“True.”_ Jo agreed. _“Wanna say hi to mama, frog?”_

“What in Panem are you calling my kids, Jo?” Haymitch snapped.

_“She reminds me of those yellow frogs we have back home.”_ Jo retorted and at the way the screen moved, Effie figured she had shrugged.

“She’s not _that_ yellow.” Haymitch told Effie. “She’s exaggerating.”

It was hard to see more than a vague baby shape through the plastic but she wouldn’t have cared if the baby had been orange or purple. She thought she could hear faint crying but…

“I love you, baby.” she whispered.

The lump in her throat was threatening to choke her now.

_“Okay, last one, who is_ not _my favorite cause I’ve been told having favorites is bad or_ whatever _.”_ Johanna cackled. There were more exasperated comments from Cyrelle. _“Here’s Brody.”_ Her voice tripped a little on the name but there was real tenderness to the way Johanna’s hand pressed against the plastic incubator. Effie noticed that _before_ she noticed the shape inside. Bigger than the other two and with..

“Is that hair on his head?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Haymitch smiled. “Bit darker than yours.”

_“I’ve been calling this one monkey.”_ Jo said. “ _Cause he’s the one who looks more like Haymitch. Got the nose.”_

“Ha _bloody_ ha.” Haymitch replied.

The baby moved as if responding to the sound.

“Brody…” Effie whispered. “Oh, I love you so…”

She couldn’t contain the tears any longer.

She wanted them.

She _needed_ them.

Just like _they_ needed _her_.

She could see it…

“I know, sweetheart.” Haymitch winced in sympathy. “But you can be with them soon. I promise.”

Soon…

Soon couldn’t come quickly enough.

Johanna lost interest in her weeping and handed the tablet back to the nurse. Cyrelle, she had to admit, was actually really nice. She toured the room again, lingering long enough next to each baby, explaining in details what tube was doing what, giving Effie an overview of their health…

“ _I will take good care of them for you_.” Cyrelle concluded before they cut off the call. And, despite her reservations, Effie believed her.

She felt a bit stunned once the screen went dark and silence fell back on the room.

They were there, the babies. Finally.

So small and real and fragile and… _theirs_.

“Hey…” Haymitch murmured. She turned her head to look at him, lifting her eyebrows in a question. “I love you, princess.”

The words were _so_ not what she had been expecting to hear that they shocked her.

For a few heartbeats, all she could do was stare at him, incredulous and… perhaps a bit _overwhelmed_.

Haymitch’s face had been calm when he had said the words but she could see his features slowly turning to panic as she just laid there and stared.

Haymitch Abernathy expressing _feelings_?

They had done a number on him, their babies…

“I love you too.” she hesitantly whispered, waiting for him to tense or flee like he always did faced with those words.

He just relaxed and smiled.

And Effie decided that they would be alright after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Effie forgot about the babies too XD Everlark is A LOT of troubles lmao. Do we really believe Jo is not completely in love with the babies? What did you think about this chapter? Let me know!


	27. Chapter 27

Steve hadn’t been all sold about her sitting in a wheelchair for a long period of time so soon after her surgery but, as immune as he had become to her scowling, Steve was still sort of terrified of her and that worked well enough for her.

The pain was bad and a part of her regretted the attempt before they even reached the neonatal room. Haymitch asked her twice if she wanted to reconsider.

She barely kept enough of a grip on her manners not to tell him to _fuck_ _off_.

The moment they rolled her in that room and she saw her babies, she started crying.

It didn’t get better.

_Touching_ them…

The experience was so…

It killed her not to be able to hold them. She wanted to cradle them close and never let them go again.

“This one’s doing _really_ well.” Cyrelle told her when she babbled to Amy about how much she loved her. When it was Brody’s turn, the nurse told them his breathing was much more regular and she didn’t expect any more apnea from him. As for Caleb…

She had heard the uncensored version from Steve.

Her poor baby boy looked so tiny, so tired…

It was hard to leave them all when it was time to roll her back to her room but leaving Caleb might have been the worst because he truly needed her.

She was barely comforted by the fact Haymitch stayed behind with their babies.

The next few days were terrible.

She was allowed daily visits but they were short and it wasn’t _enough_. She was missing her babies’ first days and the fact that Haymitch kept a constant stream from the babies room thanks to a tablet wasn’t enough to compensate the feeling she was failing them.

Peeta visited her twice.

He didn’t look good either times and she wasn’t surprised when he told her Doctor Aurelius had recommended he took a retreat to a clinic for a while, to learn how to better deal with his episodes, and that the boy had decided to say yes. She urged Haymitch to investigate the clinic first.

In the Capitol, mental health institutes could mean two things: either a wealthy resort or an asylum that would be more akin to torture than actual help. There rarely was an in-between.

The clinic turned out to be the former. It was on the outskirts of the Capitol, relatively untouched by the bombings, lots of outdoors, an art program… It seemed perfect for Peeta and, while Effie was sorry to have to let him go away from her, she was glad he would get the help he needed. She promised to visit as soon as she could.

Haymitch made the trip twice a week, leaving the babies to Annie’s or Johanna’s watch.

Twelve days exactly after she gave birth (and she counted them) Effie was finally discharged. It left both her and Haymitch at a loss because they had mostly been camping in her hospital room. Technically, he still had a room at the Mansion but he had never used it and while Paylor’s temporary administration hadn’t openly said anything it had been heavily implied that Haymitch should stay far away from the politics. Nobody had accused him of anything, happy as they were to lay the blame at a disturbed girl’s door, but the rebel leaders had suspicions.

If she had been allowed, she would have slept in the neonatal room but the nurses wouldn’t hear of it. At Haymitch’s urging, she went home for a few hours.

If her apartment could still be considered _home_.

He insisted she took Jo with her but, as she pointed out, they couldn’t keep leaving like they were at war. Coin was dead. Snow was dead. Plutarch would make sure she had a car with a driver to take her from point A to point B and back… She would be as safe as possible.

He didn’t like it but he relented.

It was terribly surreal to walk back into her apartment after all those months. The changes inside were obvious. The patched up furniture, the traces on the walls Haymitch had done his best to clean… And yet it still looked familiar enough that she could pretend she had gone back in time. She wandered from one room to the next, spooking herself a little because it had been _months_ since she hadn’t been alone in such a big space…

Then, she found the nursery and she smiled so hard it hurt.

Peeta had done such a marvelous job… She _loved_ it.

It was weird to step into the spacious shower in her bathroom, weirder still to linger there as long as she wanted – she hurried to wash under five minutes before remembering she didn’t have to abide by those restrictions anymore – weird to collapse on a bed with a comfortable mattress and wide enough to fit three people…

She couldn’t sleep.

She kept tossing and turning.

The bed was too big and too empty, the apartment was so large it felt threatening and she got so irrationally scared lying there by herself that she got dressed again, got back into the car Plutarch had put at her disposal and headed straight back to the Mansion.

Haymitch didn’t look surprised to see her back so soon.

“Strange going back to normal life, yeah?” he joked.

“It does not feel normal yet.” she replied. Perhaps when he would be home with her, when she would have the babies sleeping in the nursery… But for now…

“Yeah.” he sighed.

They wouldn’t let either of them see Katniss. The doctors were adamant it was best for her to work through everything on her own. And to appease Thirteen it was better to treat her as a contained threat.

Fifteen days after she gave birth, Caleb wasn’t progressing as well as they all would have liked and Brody still got stressed too easily, triggering episodes of quick breathing that left Effie crying every time. It was Cyrelle who had the idea of moving them into the same incubator with the doctor’s permission. They started thriving soon after that.

Effie kissed her on the cheek and bought her the biggest box of chocolate she could find – currently, chocolate was almost impossible to find so it was the best gift she could think of.

Sixteen days in and Amy was ready to be held.

Haymitch was dying to be the first, Effie could see, but he sacrificed himself because she had already missed their first moments.

Effie cried so much and promised their daughter she would never let go of her again.

Eighteen days in, they were allowed to hold Brody.

Twenty days and it was Caleb’s turn.

Caleb, the doctor told them happily, was definitely out of the woods.

Haymitch kissed their baby boy, kissed her and kissed him again, muttering something she didn’t quite catch about survivors.

They both went home that night after Johanna had shooed them off, rolling her eyes and claiming she would take a night shift and they both needed some rest. They spent two hours worrying themselves sick and calling Johanna every fifteen minutes until she told them to _fuck_ off.

It was so good to sleep with Haymitch again in a real bed, to snuggle close and fall asleep with his arms firmly wrapped around her…

The bed was empty when she woke up and her first instinct was to panic but she could hear noises coming from her mostly unused kitchen and she relaxed, allowing herself to just lie there and enjoy the calm for a few minutes. Her babies were healthy and safe, Peeta was happy enough at his clinic, Katniss… Well… Hopefully, Katniss would be alright in the end. The last two years had been… _A lot_. 

When she eventually dragged herself out of bed, wearing one of Haymitch’s shirts, she found Haymitch at the stove, making eggs. There were two plates at the kitchen island, with glasses of pressed orange juice, cutlery and a napkin on each plate.

For him to set the table…

She lifted an eyebrow. “Is it my birthday?”

They were a few months off yet, though.

“Nah.” He shrugged, not looking at her.

“Is it _your_ birthday?” she asked next, with a bit of a tease. And then realized… “Oh, Haymitch, I completely forgot!”

And not only had she forgotten but she had forgotten almost _two months_ earlier. It had been hard to keep track in Thirteen, to be honest, and then with the Capitol being taken…

“It’s fine.” he dismissed. “I’m an old man, probably better we all forgot about it.”

She rolled her eyes and slid on one of the stools. “You are certainly not _old_. Are we celebrating Caleb’s recovery, then?”

Like every time she thought about her babies, she started smiling. It was a beaming dazzling smile. They had come a long way from those first moments of terror in her compartment when they had suspected she was pregnant. She was so gloriously _happy_ nowadays.

Haymitch shot her a glance over his shoulder. “Not your seat.” He pointed at the other plate. “You sit here.”

Her eyebrows lifted higher but she did as he requested, feeling like she was missing something. He turned around a few seconds later with the pan in hand and she lifted the napkin from the plate so he could divide the eggs…

Something fell out of the fabric and clicked against the delicate china. She did a double take at what was now lying in the middle of her plate.

It was a ring, no doubt about that. White gold. Huge pink diamond. Extremely real and extremely expensive.

She looked up at Haymitch who placed the pan down and cleared his throat awkwardly.

She had always thought he looked adorable when he was this embarrassed.

“Seems like you’re missing an accessory to keep the charade going. People are bound to notice now that you’re up and about.” he muttered. “ _Mrs Abernathy_.”

She pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side, fighting to keep control of her features and _not_ grin. “The _charade_?”

He made a face, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean… Well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore but everyone thinks…” He let out an annoyed breath. “You know.”

Actually, that wasn’t _strictly_ true. Plutarch had done a _superb_ job of containing the information – mostly because _he_ wanted to have the exclusivity when the news of their babies would break out – so their “marriage” still hadn’t meant the news.

There _had_ been a few articles about her sudden public reappearance after such a long absence from the cameras but the nicest articles had focused about her weight gain and the nastiest ones had speculated on the real reasons for her pardon despite Thirteen’s official statement a while back. It was alright, Effie had been prepared for it. She had known there would be no winning this particular war. She would be the monster who turned to the rebellion too late or she would be the traitor who caved too soon.

“Do I?” she teased, propping her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand to better enjoy this.

He shot her a look that was both fond and annoyed. “Take the ring or I’m burying it under the eggs.”

“Why…” She chuckled. “That is the _best_ proposal anyone has ever made me. And I had _four_ , you know.”

“ _Fuck_ you.” he retorted cheerfully enough.

“Language.” She clucked her tongue. “Is that a way to speak to your future wife, Haymitch?”

“Hate to break it to you but, officially, you’re already my wife, sweetheart.” He smirked. “The name on our babies’ birth certificates is Effie _Abernathy_.”

“Well then…” She faked a sigh. “It seems I have no other choice.”

She picked up the ring but he snatched it away before she could do more than take a vague look at it. He grabbed her left hand and positioned the ring but didn’t slipped it on just yet.

“Look, I get you’re gonna want a real wedding later on…” he mumbled, sitting down.

“Well, a toasting at least would be nice.” she hummed. “And we should probably look into signing papers that make it _official_ for now. No need for a fuss yet. As you say, we can have it later.”

She wasn’t getting married without Katniss and Peeta. And with three babies, it really didn’t seem like the right time.

“Wouldn’t do any of this with anyone else, you know?” he asked, a bit uncertainly. “The kids… The babies… Marriage… This whole _fucking_ war…” He shrugged, looking awkward, and averted his eyes. “You’re the only one I want next to me when everything goes to _shit_ cause you make the _shit_ … You make the _shit_ bearable. At some points… Back… _then._ You even made the _shit_ worth it.” She bit down on her bottom lip because it was that or crying and she had cried enough during the last ten months. “I wanna grow old with you. I wanna…” He dared meet her eyes and, when he realized how close to tears she was, he seemed to relax a little. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, slid it down to her nape so he could give it a small comforting squeeze. “You’re the _fucking_ love of my life and I ain’t losing you. Ever. So… Yeah. That’s it, I’m done.”

He slid the ring on her finger.

It was a beautiful ring truly, clearly chosen with her tastes in mind.

“If you intend to use this as your vows at the wedding, you will have to refine the language.” she remarked. It earned her a chuckle and she smiled, grabbing his forearm. His hand was still coiled around her nape. She grew serious before he could take her up on the banter and joke the whole thing off. It would made it easier for him, she knew, but there were things she wanted to say too. “I love you. I love you because you have _never_ been easy…”

“Not what they used to say back in the day…” he snorted.

She shot him a look and he shut up.

“We have always been so… _real_.” she continued. “I hated it at times. It scared me at others. But…” She licked her lips, not quite sure how to put everything into words. She had never thought she would have _this_ , she had never thought _this_ ever existed. Love with a capital L… She had craved it but she had also believed her mother when she had said it was a fairy tale, something for little girls to dream about and for grown women to scoff at. “It has never been easy. None of it. But it made it all so, _so_ worth it…” She brushed her fingers against his jaw, her nail scrapping the stubble… “I _trust_ you. I _love_ you. And I would not have done this with anyone else either, by the way. Not the Games… At least not this long. Not the war, not _three_ babies…” She laughed because that part would never fail to amaze and stun her. “Three babies…”

“Three babies.” Haymitch repeated with a snort, leaning in to steal a kiss that started sweet but soon turned into something heavy and needy. It had been _months_. And she wanted him. Of, _fuck_ , did she want him but… He must have remembered at the same time she did sex wasn’t on the table yet because he reluctantly drew back. They exchanged a look that said it all and he safely retreated to grab the pan and divide the eggs. “I notice you didn’t say I was the love of your life, by the way.”

She could have joked it off, she supposed, but she didn’t want to. “Does it need saying?”

She had been twelve when she had fallen in love with a District tribute who had realistically next to zero chance of winning. Could he be anything but the love of her life when all was said and done?

“Guess not.” he said, fondly.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence for a few minutes, with Effie often pausing to admire her new ring. She loved it. Big, pink and impossible to miss without being too garish, he couldn’t have chosen better.

Their feet were distractedly playing with each other under the kitchen island.

“I hope you know the moment you can have sex again I’m gonna _fuck_ you in every room.” he said matter-of-factly.

She grinned her best salacious grin at him. “I am _counting_ on it, darling.”

It was actually a bit hard to remember it _truly_ would not have been clever to ignore medical recommendations after that and they tacitly decided to go back to the Mansion and their children.

Johanna scoffed really hard when she caught sight of the diamond on her finger.

Effie was so glad to see her babies she didn’t even care. She was never as happy as when she could hold them and hum to them. They were allowed to do more now even: feed them and change them…

With Brody and Caleb cradled in each arm, she caught Haymitch’s eyes. He was carrying Amy with a goofy smile on his face.

Effie didn’t think she had ever been happier than at that very minute.

Twenty-five days after she gave birth, she, Haymitch and the rest of Panem went to vote for the next President of Panem. The headlines, the next day, were all about Patina Paylor and the new area that was opening for the country but there were side articles, gossip rags…

“Cat’s out of the bag.” Haymitch sighed, as he handed her a few magazines.

The titles varied: _“Is That A Rock, I See?”; “Don’t Call Her Trinket Anymore”; “Victor and Escort Tied The Knot?”_ and her personal favorite: _“Sham-Crossed Lovers: Is Effie Trinket Using Twelve’s Alcoholic Quell Victor?”_

It wasn’t really surprising though. Haymitch’s venture to the polling place had been televised and she had been standing right next to him, her pink diamond ring on display on a very telling finger.

They hadn’t intended to keep their marriage secret forever. 

“Am I using you?” she hummed, flashing him an amused look.

“Sadly, not enough lately.” he deadpanned, tossing another one at her. “This one could be bad. I’m gonna ask Plutarch to bury the story.”

“ _Is There A Secret Baby In The Presidential Mansion?”_ The article linked her obvious gain weight to the ring on her finger and her absence from the spotlight in the aftermath of the rebels’ victory.

“Leave it.” she advised. “It is a nothing but a gossip rag. Nobody ever believes a word they say. Burying it would call more attention to the story than we need. Everyone is busy talking about President Paylor anyway…”

And they had more pressing matters at hand.

Like the fact they would soon be allowed to bring their babies home and they would need a stroller that Haymitch had completely forgotten to buy.

Her priorities had changed.

And what Panem thought of her ranked low on that list now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY HAVE THE BABIES AND THEY ARE NOW MARRIIIIIIIIIIIED! Did you like the "wedding"? Are we impatient for everyone to go home? Do you know the press will figure it all out soon? Let me know your thoughts!


	28. Chapter 28

“Won’t you go to sleep, monkey?” Haymitch muttered in a begging tone.

The baby nestled in the crook of his arm stared straight back at him with his bright blue eyes, blowing out some drool and Haymitch sighed, reached for the dishtowel tossed on the back of a chair and wiped his mouth.

Effie had successfully got Amy and Caleb to settle down in their daughter’s crib for a nap – the babies were always calmer when they slept together so they had a rotation system in place – and she had looked so dead on her feet that Haymitch had told her to go have a nap of her own, that he would get Brody to sleep.

Needless to say, it hadn’t happened.

Selfishly, he wished he had given in to her token insistence that she could take care of him while he worked.

 _Worked_.

What a joke.

He looked at the papers scattered in front of him and sighed once more. The table in her dining-room was _covered_ with papers, some officials and some half-scribbled with potential speeches. Working on Katniss’ defense occupied most of the meager free time he got away from the babies and, since it wasn’t fair to leave her alone with the little monsters, he had taken to make Plutarch come here rather than go to the former Gamemaker’s house.

Plutarch had readily agreed at first but the more he showed up at their apartment, the more often he joked about hiring a nanny so they could get some work done without being interrupted by crying infants. Haymitch had been so exhausted lately he had actually been considering the _at least get a night nurse_ suggestion. Just _one_ night. One night of uninterrupted sleep… Oh, that sounded too good…

But Effie glared every time the word _nanny_ was uttered and the only reason Plutarch escaped her wrath was because he always brought a gift every time he showed up at their door – and he showed up every day. The kids were spoiled. There was no denying that. There were giant stuffed toys all over the place, more baby clothes than they knew what to do with, square lamp thingy that projected soft colors on the walls and were supposed to help them sleep…

The kids were spoiled and the whole apartment was such a mess Effie kept saying they should tidy up but lacked the energy to do more than pick up a few things and force them on a shelf. She had protested the nanny but she hadn’t protested the maid Plutarch had sent over from his own house. It was, after all, dangerous for the babies if the place wasn’t clean.

So now it was dust free and the floors were mopped but there was still baby stuff all over the place.

Having three babies was exhausting.

He had known it would be, sure, but… It was _exhausting_.

They wanted to be fed all the time and when they didn’t want to be fed they wanted to be changed or held or _what did he know_? They demanded _attention_. Not always at the same time either so that, often, once he was done calming one down another started screaming and since Effie was usually busy with the third one… It _never_ stopped.

And the nights were the worst.

None of them slept through the night. 

Of course, they could have let them cry. That was one of the advices they had been offered. People had _plenty_ of advices for them, even those who didn’t have kids themselves. Let them cry, they said; don’t mother hen them, they said; help them become independent, they said…

Neither he nor Effie was capable of letting one of their children cry themselves to sleep.

It killed them to even _think_ they were unhappy in _any_ way. 

“Come on, Brody…” he sighed again, humming an off-key lullaby.

He really needed to make progress on Katniss’ defense. The lawyers they had consulted thought they had a good case. Paylor herself was ready to publicly support the girl but refused to influence the trial in any way and had forbidden them from revealing the details of the Hummingbird Operation in fear it would trigger a second revolution. Still, even without that, Coin had done _plenty_ of shady things and Katniss’ instability could be supported by a lot of elements, starting with the baby she had supposedly lost during the Quell and ending with her sister’s death.

It _could_ work and it _would_ work. 

Now if only Aster would stop dodging his calls…

There were loud knocks on the door and he eagerly hauled himself out of the dining-room chair, quickly striding through the apartment to the front door before the delivery person could knock again or, god forbid, _ring the doorbell_.

They had a paper tapped under the doorbell asking people to _not_ use it. It was a sure way to wake up everyone.

“Food’s here.” he told Brody who was becoming fussy. “You’re gonna let Papa eat, yeah?”

He and Effie survived mostly on take-outs and Plutarch’s cook’s generosity. They had probably become the best customers of the little restaurant at the corner of the street, so much so that Haymitch knew most of their delivery boys and girls by name. He had just ordered spinach lasagnas and he could already _taste_ it. He was _that_ famished.

They had skipped breakfast and lunch because Amy kept throwing up her bottle and the boys wouldn’t stop crying. No time to eat when you had to take care of so many babies, barely time for sneaking in a cup of coffee.

He made sure Brody was steady in the crook of his arm before opening the door, blocking it with his foot so it wouldn’t slam against the wall – he needed to fix that but when? – his free hand already reaching for the wallet he had tossed on the table with the mess of keys and unopened mail.

When he looked up, though, it wasn’t a teenager in a red and white uniform with his food parcel but a very Capitol woman with teal blue hair, plastic all over her face, and a tailor suit that probably cost more than the ring he had bought Effie – well maybe not _more_ because that ring hadn’t come _cheap_.

She was vaguely familiar too but it was the eyes that clued him in.

“You’re not my spinach lasagna.” was all he found to say.

 _What else_ was there to say to a woman his wife had spent weeks trying to contact to no avail?

Her blue eyes, so _fucking_ like Effie’s and Brody’s in both color and shape, roamed over him with obvious contempt.

Well… To be fair, he wasn’t looking his best. Dirty tangled hair that really need to be washed – but shower privileges were more hard-won than in Thirteen those days and since Effie had snatched a nap he was going to insist on a five minutes shower break later on – he hadn’t bothered with a shirt and while the sweatpants were new, they were still obviously pajamas. And it _was_ close to three in the afternoon.

“I was in the neighborhood.” the woman said in a clipped tone that she made a clear effort to curb into something, if not polite, at least not _outright_ hostile. “I thought I would call on my daughter.”

She pointedly looked past him and into the apartment but he didn’t move, he kept blocking the entrance. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to react, here. Effie would probably want him to invite her in but he wasn’t sure he wanted her anywhere near his wife or his children.

Brody wiggled a little, never one to be ignored too long, and Haymitch automatically looked down, rocking him a little to try and prevent screams that would wake up the other two.

“Is that my grandchild?” the woman asked with a detachment that rang fake to his ears. She took a step closer, curiously peeked at the bundle in his arms… It was the brief look of yearning on her face that decided him. It was barely a flash. There and gone in a second. He blinked and she was the picture of poise and decorum again.

It _was_ the yearning that decided him though.

That and the knowledge Effie would kick his ass if he took that big a decision about her family without consulting her.

“One of them.” he confirmed, stepping aside. It wasn’t quite the welcome she had expected but…

“One of them?” she repeated, stepping over the threshold and into the apartment. “Twins?”

The fact that Effie had been pregnant in Thirteen had finally leaked and had become common knowledge. They had confirmed their marriage through a press release – well, _Effie_ had done that – but they hadn’t publicly declared anything else yet. Rumors were growing rampant, speculating about the gender of their child, about all the mystery surrounding the babe, and he didn’t think they would be able to keep the triplet secret much longer but they were enjoying the respite all the same.

It was complicated enough to jungle with three babies, regular visits to Peeta’s clinic, meeting with Katniss’ doctors and preparing the Mockingjay’s very public defense without having to deal with the press hounding them about personal matters.

Still, he had thought she had sent a letter to her family to tell them… Either she hadn’t _actually_ shared the news or they hadn’t read it.

“It’s…” he started to answer but was distracted by the chime of the elevator. He smirked as his favorite delivery boy walked out of the elevator and victoriously held the bag stamped with the restaurant logo high in the air.

“I’m here to save you, Mr Abernathy!” the teenager joked. “Mr Moreno added some of that garlic bread Mrs Abernathy likes so much. And tiramisu. On the house.” Entirely impervious to the posh visitor standing next to Haymitch, the boy walked closer to get a good look at the baby in his arm with a grin. “Is it the grumpy one?”

“None of my kids are _grumpy_ , Key.” he grumbled, more amused than offended. He didn’t mind the kid’s antics. He was nice for a Capitol. But, then again, he belonged to that category of Capitols who hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in their mouth and knew what it was to have to work to put food on the table. He also reminded him a lot of Finnick at fifteen, which was bittersweet. “Tell Moreno thanks for us, yeah?”

Kay shrugged and handed him the food, pocketing the money in exchange. “You order every day. It’s not that big of a deal.”

But true kindness always was in this city.

As was loyalty.

Moreno and the delivery kids all knew about the multiple babies for having glimpsed them once or twice but they had kept their mouths shut about it so far.

He watched the boy go with a fond smirk, closed the front door, turned around and remembered he had a problem. The woman had been standing so still during the whole exchange that he had almost forgotten about her.

“You order food from that restaurant every day.” she commented.

“I’m too busy to cook.” he muttered defensively, dropping the bag in the corridor because he could see he wasn’t going to eat any time soon.

She looked shocked he would even suggest _that_. Either because she didn’t think he could do anything that wasn’t murdering someone or because, in her mind, Effie should be able to afford having a staff and what not. They probably could if they had wanted to but he didn’t want strangers in his apartment or around his children and neither did Effie.

“There are better restaurants.” she pointed out. “What it must do for Effie’s diet…”

The last part was muttered under her breath but Haymitch stopped leading the way to the living-room to abruptly turn around. The sudden move didn’t agree with Brody who made it known by starting to cry. He rocked the baby gently, _glaring_ at the woman.

“You _ain’t_ gonna make _a single_ comment about her weight, are we clear?” he growled.

He didn’t need that.

Effie was…

She was struggling with the aftermath of her pregnancy – and the multiple articles with stolen pictures that were criticizing her figure weren’t helping. She wasn’t skipping meals – no more than he was – but she _was_ careful about what she ate and in which quantities. And she was trying to sneak a few hours of work out every day no matter how tired.

He told her she was gorgeous and she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her weight was a very, _very_ sensitive topic.

He didn’t really see why she was obsessing. She had carried three babies, it was only natural she was a bit… And she wasn’t _that_ big anyway. She was a tiny thing without her heels and puffy wig and it wasn’t like Thirteen had allowed her to gain a ton of weight, they had fed her just enough to sustain her and the babies. Her stomach wasn’t flat anymore and she had some fat in her cheeks, bigger breasts, her thighs were a bit thicker… _Big deal_. She was chubby at best by normal people’s standard but she had a _model_ mindset and… Yeah, he had picked up on it potentially becoming a problem down the line because he knew her and he knew how she thought.

“Are you to censor my conversations with my own daughter?” the woman hissed.

“Do you want to have a _conversation_ with your daughter?” he retorted. “Or did you just come here to _upset_ her? Cause if it’s the latter, you can just _fuck_ off.”

She gasped as if nobody had _ever_ dared address her that way.

 _Good_.

“I _mean_ it, lady.” he warned. “She’s had a hard few months. She’s _vulnerable,_ right now. And I won’t let anyone exploit that, not even her own _fucking_ mother. Are we clear?”

The Capitol looked two seconds away from slapping him or storming off.

Then her blue eyes fell onto the baby in his arms and she pursed her lips so tight they almost disappeared. “You are protective of her. I suppose that is not unwelcome.”

He scoffed, tense and ready for a fight that didn’t seem to be coming. “You know where the living-room is.” At least, he assumed. “I’ll go get her.”

He took exactly one step in the direction of the bedroom.

“I could… I could hold the baby for you. If you wish.” she offered in a tone that was both standoffish and hopeful.

He instinctively tightened his hold on his son.

Did he think she would harm him or run away with him? Not really. Was he ready to entrust her with his baby? He wasn’t even ready to entrust her with his grown-up wife. “Not yet.”

To her credit, she didn’t insist. She headed to the living-room and he quickly crossed the corridor to their bedroom, shushing Brody a little because the baby really was getting fussy.

Effie was sprawled on her stomach on their unmade bed, still in her pajamas, deep asleep. She was drooling a little on his pillow. _Adorable_.

“That’s where you get it from, monkey.” he snorted for their son’s benefit before carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching for her shoulder with his free hand. He had to shake her a few times before she finally emerged with a long groan…

“Are they awake already?” she mumbled.

“No. They’re still down.” He stroke her arm without really thinking about it. “Well, except Brody.”

She rolled on her back and held out her arms. “Give him to me. He can nap with Mama. Won’t you like that, baby? Give Papa a break. He is overdue for a shower. He smells ripe.”

“I love it when you tell me sweet-nothings, princess.” he mocked.

“It isn’t me, it is our son telling you.” she denied, wriggling her fingers when he failed to hand the baby over. “Seriously, though. You have indulged me enough and I know you wanted a shower this morning.”

He winced. “Yeah, thing is… I’d have let you sleep more but…” 

“Oh, did you order food?” she asked, sitting up. “I am _starving_.” She froze and shot him an contrite look but he waved that turn of phrase – that usually never failed to annoy him – away.

“There’s lasagna. And tiramisu, seems like. Compliments of Moreno.” he told her. “But there’s also someone here for you.”

She frowned. “Someone here for me? Who? Annie or Jo?”

He wasn’t sure how she would react so he handed her the baby. She wouldn’t get _too_ upset with one of their babies in her arms, she never did. It was an awesome way to soften some blows – like the fact he had eaten the last yoghurt or how he didn’t want to wear a wedding band because he already had her bangle and it was more symbolic than any ring could ever be.

Once she had Brody in her arms and sucking on her little finger, he cleared his throat. “It’s your mom.”

“ _What?”_

The shriek was loud enough that Brody started crying and, not unexpectedly, echoes of that crying boomed through the baby monitor he had left in the dining-room and from the nursery itself.

“Oh, no, baby, Mama is sorry… I did _not_ mean to shout…” she frantically whispered to Brody, rocking him. “What do you _mean_ my mother is here?”

“I mean she’s in the living-room.” He shrugged. “You want me to tell her to go?”

She blinked and, for a second, she seriously considered it, he could see it plain as day on her face. “Of course not. Did you offer her some beverage?” He stared at her to let her know just how stupid a question it was and she made a face. “Oh dear.” She looked down at herself and at the crumpled silky lavender top and matching shorts she had been wearing for two days straight. And, like him, she _smelled_ like she had been wearing them for two days straight. “ _Oh dear_. Well… Nothing for it, I suppose.” She shuffled to the edge of the mattress until she could stand up without letting go of Brody. 

“You’re keeping this one?” he asked. “I’m gonna get the other monsters.”

She had protested the first time he had referred to the babies as _monsters_ but the nickname had stuck.

“Yes.” she agreed. “Yes, that would be… Yes. Where _is_ the baby cushion?”

The baby cushion was a gift from Plutarch and it had become their best friend. It was a huge plushy thing that could easily fit the three babies. They were safe and comfortable and _together_ – which was always a plus when it came to settling them down – and it allowed _them_ to have both arms free. Annie had also come through with a couple of baby wraps thingy that you passed over your neck and that allowed you to carry the baby without having to actually _hold_ them, like one of those extinct kangaroo animals. He really liked those. He had commandeered the yellow one, leaving the bright pink to Effie.

“Living-room. Next to the couch.” he said, getting to his feet with a sigh. “I think.” 

They were constantly losing stuff.

She took a deep breath and then charged out of the room. Haymitch was very quick in the nursery, he lifted both babies, one in each arm – he had become _very_ _good_ at doing that even though he never attempted it on days were tremors were bad – and hurried to the living-room where he could already hear raised voices.

“Do you have _any_ idea what we went through, Euphemia?” her mother was _shouting_. “ _Any_ idea? I thought you might be _dead_!” He had been about to barge in and chew her a new one about screaming at Effie but he slowed down and winced because… Well… That argument was actually valid, wasn’t it? He heard the soothing rumble of Effie’s voice but it was hard to decipher the words above the babies’ crying. “Your father was _frantic_! The Peacekeepers at our door _day and night_! And _I_ … How _could_ you do something like that to _me_?”

He was closed enough to hear Effie’s bitter “I did not know you would care.”

“ _You did not know I would care_?” the Capitol woman snapped, half shrieking. “You did not know I… I have always done _my utter best_ for you, Euphemia. _Always_. You were always so _headstrong_ , so _stubborn_ … But to take off with a _drunk from Twelve_ in the middle of a war _without even a note?_ I believed he had _kidnapped_ you. I told _everyone_ , _all my friends_ , that _you_ would _never_ … Do you realize what _joke_ you made of me? And if that was _not enough_ , did you have to go and…” Haymitch burst in at that point, ready to put an end to that woman’s shrieking, crying infants in each arm or not. The Capitol’s eyes turned to him and she kept talking until she _noticed_ the babies. “… _marry_ that…” She faltered. “That…” She glanced at the baby Effie was rocking and then back at the two in Haymitch’s arms. “That…”

Her eyes were wide and her jaw opened and closed but no more sound was coming through.

“How fun.” he deadpanned. “She looks like you when you found out.” 

“Oh, _hush_.” Effie chided, tossing a warning look his way. “Mother, you do not look well, would you like to sit down?” She hastily transferred Brody to her left elbow and hastily picked up dishcloths dirty with spite or puke from the back of couch, then she nudged off the brand new pack of diapers he had brought back the previous day and hadn’t yet put away in the nursery. “Here. Sit down.”

Mrs Trinket didn’t sit down, though, despite Effie hovering at her elbow with a concerned look on her face. She kept looking at the babies in Haymitch’s arms and at the one in Effie’s.

“Three?” she finally managed to breathe out, half horrified and half… Was that happiness in her voice? He couldn’t tell. He could _never_ tell with Capitols. “ _Three_ babies? Lyssa did not say. She just said…”

“I did not have time to inform Lyssa before she jumped at my throat.” Effie grumbled.

The woman blinked and looked at her with clear reprobation, her lips pursed. “You should have helped her. She is _your sister_ and…”

“Did _my sister_ care to mention that _I_ was not entirely safe from those trials myself, Mother?” Effie cut her off. “Look… If you want to hear my side of the story, I am more than happy to give it. But if you came here to pile reproaches on me and… and _insult_ my children like Lyssa did…”

“Insult your children?” The Capitol woman frowned. “I will admit the _pedigree_ on the father’s side is not ideal.” She tossed Haymitch a disapproving look. “But they are still _your_ children. _My_ grandchildren. Bryden and Timotheo…” For a second, she lost the haughty attitude. Just a second of slouching shoulders, then she was standing straight as a rod again. “Your father and I did our best to protect them, you know. This war was terrible on the children.”

“Wasn’t just the war that was terrible on the children.” Haymitch muttered, heading to the baby cushion and carefully lying both babies down. He made sure they were comfy and safe before standing back up with a sigh. “You’re gonna want some tea, I guess?”

The woman looked at him and then nodded, clearly still stunned by the triplet news.

He could relate.

He headed to the kitchen, picking up the bag of food on the way, letting Effie nudge the woman to the couch. He pretended he didn’t see her settling their son in her mother’s arms because the urge to storm back around and snatch him away was strong.

It was even stronger when Effie showed up in the kitchen five minutes later, babies free.

He didn’t like that she had left her Capitol mother alone with their children. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Please, do not antagonize her.” she requested before he could say anything. “She actually looks… She actually looks _willing_ to listen to my side of things and she has not been mean yet and… I think she came here already caring about our child, Haymitch… She just did not expect to get three new grandchildren at once.”

“She’s a loyalist.” he reminded her. Not that Effie had ever told her so plainly but…

“Oh, she is too cunning to be a loyalist.” she dismissed. “She goes where the power is.” She shook her head. “And I am one-hundred-percent certain she would not harm our babies. Not that I am suggesting we will let them have sleepovers any time soon. Or _ever_. Actually, I _do_ want them to know their grandparents since they seem willing but I do not want them to be _influenced_ by them, if that makes any sense.” She flashed him a grin. “I do believe Lyssa is also going to be in _a lot_ of troubles for her _bastard_ comments, which shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.”

He studied her for a moment and then reluctantly relented. “As long as she doesn’t start being nasty to you or the kids…”

She planted a kiss on his mouth and sauntered back to the living-room.

When he walked back in there with a tray loaded with a teapot and plates of lasagnas – three, since it didn’t look like Mrs Trinket was leaving any time soon and he was too exhausted to face a lecture about rudeness – her mother was trying to convince her to accept hiring a housekeeper because the apartment was apparently _a mess_.

Which it was.

The woman also had his three children wrapped all around her. Amy was in her arms, Caleb lying on her thighs and Brody was on the couch between the two women with the Capitol regularly tickling his tummy and Effie’s hand making an unnecessary barrier between him and the edge of the couch.

Mostly, the Capitol ignored him.

That suited him.

“Three grandchildren!” she exclaimed regularly as if surprised all over again.

Haymitch chewed his food and kept quiet – even when Effie shot him a warning look and he made an effort _not_ to eat too loudly with a pointed look of his own toward her plate. She got the hint and attacked her share of lasagna.

Her mother seemed flabbergasted that one could eat lunch on the couch instead of at a dining table and didn’t touch her plate, which was good because it meant food they wouldn’t have to order or slave over to make later.

“Why are you keeping it a secret though?” the woman – Elindra, she had finally introduced herself – asked. “You are not ashamed, are you? They are so _precious_ …”

“Ashamed?” Effie hissed in irritation. “Are you…”

“I did not mean _you_.” her mother interrupted. “The climate isn’t actually leaning toward Capitols, right now, is it? I assume having a Capitol wife and half-Capitols children won’t be well regarded in certain circles.”

She tossed him a covert look that wasn’t covert at all and Haymitch rolled his eyes.

“I ain’t _ashamed_ of anything and certainly _not_ my kids.” he spat. “We’re just… trying to be careful.”

“Lyssa refused to understand.” Effie sighed, cradling Amy close to her chest. “But it was rather more complicated than _just_ picking a side in this war, Mother. And our babies… They are an obvious target for anyone with ill-intent toward Haymitch or myself.”

“You?” Elindra frowned. “I understand why people would come after your victor but why would _anyone_ be after _you_?” But she pursed her lips as soon as she said it, probably realizing that most of her _friends_ , by her own admission, weren’t exactly happy about the changes the rebellion had brought. “Never mind. I see. I suppose it is rather clever to be discreet for now.”

“Which is why you can’t go babbling about it.” Haymitch pointed out.

Effie’s glare was not unlike her mother’s.

“ _Naturally_.” Mrs Trinket huffed. “Although I do not know how long such a secret can keep…”

“Not long.” Effie admitted. “But every day gained is another day made easier by it. There is so much to worry about with Katniss’ trial so close now… When the press hears about this, we won’t have a second of peace. You saw how they were with the marriage thing.”

“I see.” the woman repeated even though Haymitch doubted she actually saw anything. What would _she_ know? “And do not think we won’t have a talk about this marriage thing, as you put it, but… You would not… You would not _mind_ me telling your father, would you, dear? We might _not_ want to tell Lyssa just yet. She is… She is _understandably_ upset. Not to imply she would do anything rash like running to a newspaper but…”

“Telling Father is fine.” Effie accepted. “I would… I would not mind seeing him if he could spare the time…”

“Oh, I am sure he will want to visit.” Elindra hummed, smiling down at Caleb. It was a scary smile and Haymitch didn’t blame his son for crying. “ _Three grandchildren_. He will want to meet them soon. Tomorrow. Would tomorrow suit? We could come back tomorrow. With appropriate gifts for the little darlings… Oh I know _just_ the right shade of blue that would suit this precious one…”

Great, Haymitch mused, shoveling a forkful of lasagna in his mouth to prevent himself from saying anything, seemed like they were about to be besieged by Capitols…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elindra came blazing but I think she fell in love... Are hayffie the best tired parents or what? What did you think? Did you like this chapter? Do let me know!
> 
> We will take a 2 weeks hiatus as next week is Christmas and the week after that is January 1st. There will be the last os of the advent calendar next Friday instead. We will back to normal schedule with this story on the 8th =)


	29. Chapter 29

Effie adjusted her hold on Caleb so he could suck more easily on the bottle, her lips stretching into a tired smile when Haymitch appeared on the nursery’s threshold. She didn’t startle because she had heard the keys jingled and the front door opening a few moments earlier. But she was relieved.

“Look at that, babies, Papa is back _right_ for feeding time…” she teased.

He leaned against the doorframe with a tender smile of his own, holding up the big stuffed bunny he was carrying by the scruff of its neck. “It was in front of the door. Didn’t hear the delivery boy?”

“They were so fussy I had the TV a little loud.” she admitted. As if they knew what was going on... The babies always seemed to become agitated when the trial went live. “Is there a card?”

“Your parents. _Again_. We’re gonna drown under the gifts.” He snorted. “Wouldn’t have brought it in otherwise.”

_Of course, he wouldn’t have_ , she realized tiredly.

The news about the babies had broken out.

They had brought them on a visit to Peeta’s clinic because the boy had been asking after them and they wanted to surprise him. In theory, it should have been perfectly safe – two car trips and the clinic catered to wealthy people and, thus, relied on _privacy_ – but they had gotten caught by a paparazzi right at the foot of her building. And there was no hiding the huge stroller with three screaming infants inside.

It had been on every news channel for two days straight, which went to show nothing had changed that much, at least where the Capitol was concerned. Plutarch had immediately countered by bringing all the exclusive details up on his networks, from their love story to their pregnancy. Neither Effie nor Haymitch had actually _agreed_ to any of that but when he had showed up at their door looking all sheepish and carrying three identical rainbow-colored rompers with _“I love my Uncle Plutarch”_ on the first one _“Don’t be mad at him”_ on the second and _“Please”_ on the third one _._ It was so cute that Effie had laughed, caved and forgiven him on the spot.

Haymitch had taken longer to bring around but…

It was the game, wasn’t it? 

They were famous people, regardless of how much they wanted to move away from that, and it was the price to pay for it.

Still, people had reacted _very_ differently. Some were incensed they had children when so many were dead – either in the Games, in the war or in the Capitol bombing – others questioned the wisdom of allowing _them_ to be parents and, finally, there were those – a surprising important amount, actually – who wished them well.

That had translated by gifts for the children sent either to the Presidential Mansion or directly to their door. Haymitch and Effie didn’t want to accept those in case they were tricks or potentially harmful. They were paranoid people, the two of them, but was it paranoia when so many people had tried to kill you in the past? Plutarch had a team inspecting every gifted item and, when cleared, they were sent to various orphanages or children hospitals that needed them more than their babies did. So far, there had been only one case of tempering. But it was one case too many in her opinion. That someone could want to her _a baby…_ She didn’t like thinking about it.

“Did you behave for Mama, today?” Haymitch asked Amy, lifting her out of her crib and blowing raspberries on her tummy. The baby made a noise that they had long decided meant she was pleased.

He picked one of the already made bottles on the dresser and went to work feeding their daughter. Brody would be last because he had been first this morning.

“She was an angel.” Effie lied. She knew he didn’t like leaving her alone with the babies but, with Katniss’ trial, he didn’t have a choice. He was gone hours at a time, often the whole morning and a good deal of the afternoon. It wouldn’t last much longer and thus she made an effort to pick up the slack.

And, truth be told, she was _never_ entirely left alone. Annie was becoming a bit too big to be of much help and she intended to go back to Four while traveling wasn’t yet too difficult as she really wanted to give birth there. Still, the girl came over regularly. Johanna was often around too, not really useful but it was another pair of arms and, with triplets, that was often necessary. Her parents had visited quite a lot too in the last couple of weeks, her mother particularly. Elindra wouldn’t touch a nappy and barely consented to feed the babies, insisting Effie should hire someone for that, but she would hold them and rock them if they cried and that was already tremendous help when all _she_ wanted to do was follow the trial on TV.

Haymitch shot her a look that told her he didn’t believe her for one second. He had a point when he called them _monsters_. It was always fond and full of love but… They were _a lot_ of work.

“It seemed to go well today.” she commented. _What the babies had let her watch, at least…_

“It ain’t going bad.” He nodded. “Plutarch’s hoping we can secure the deal in the next couple of days. Then it’s over.” He glanced at her before looking back at Amy, a troubled look on his face. “The lawyer’s a bit concerned though… And… I’m starting to worry too.”

“Aster.” she deduced easily, putting the empty bottle aside and expertly rocking Caleb until he burped. “Did you manage to talk to her?”

She kissed their son’s head and the inside of his little hand before hauling herself out of the chair to pick up Brody and the last bottle.

Haymitch didn’t answer until she was sitting back down.

“She’s avoiding me.” he admitted. “She’s avoiding the lawyer too, which is why he’s starting to feel cautious.”

Effie pursed her lips, watching him. Mrs Everdeen’s attitude had become more and more troubling in the weeks leading up to the trial. The woman had thrown herself into her work as a medic, which was commendable, but she had been going on missions that took her out of the Capitol for days at a time. Aside for the first few days of Katniss’ isolation, she hadn’t asked if she could see or talk to her daughter. And while she had agreed to the general plan that they would aim to get Katniss declared of unsound state of mind and released to her guardianship until her mental state could be reevaluated at a later date, she hadn’t gotten involved into the trial’s preparations at all.

“Do you think she will bolt?” she asked seriously.

She didn’t know a lot about Katniss’ childhood but she had gathered _enough_ when they were all in Thirteen. Yes, Katniss was a very independent girl but, surely, she had reasons to be.

“Hard to say.” Haymitch sighed, putting down the empty bottle and cradling Amy closer to his chest. “She’s sick, I think. You know… In the head. In Twelve, we call that _melancholy_ …”

“There are treatments.” she pointed out.

“Yeah.” he agreed. “She was taking plants and stuff last year. Seemed to be doing okay. Don’t think she had them in Thirteen though. And with Prim…” He shook his head. “You know, she ain’t doing _that_ bad. After Prim… I thought she would collapse.” He buried his face in their daughter’s tummy for a second. “Sure can’t imagine going on if something happened to them…”

“If something happened to _one_ of them, it would _kill_ us but we would not abandon the other two when they need us.” she retorted with unwavering certainty. “I understand her grief. I _do_. But…”

“You’re judging her.” Haymitch cut her off. “You don’t know what she’s been through. You haven’t walked in her shoes.”

Was she judging her? Maybe a little.

The crux of the matter was that Effie’s only interest was _Katniss_ , not Katniss’ mother, and that Aster Everdeen had been remotely lacking as a mother ever since the city bombings if not before. Even during Katniss’ recovery… She hadn’t watched the girl as attentively as she ought to. And the fact that Katniss kept seeking refuge into _her_ hospital room…

She was probably being unfair but she _didn’t_ _want_ to be fair. She just wanted to protect her victor.

“Thing is… She missed two court sessions already.” Haymitch grumbled. “Doesn’t reflect well on Katniss, or so says the lawyer.”

She looked down at Brody, she couldn’t understand how someone could abandon their child. Even before the babies, she had been _extremely_ protective of Katniss and Peeta. The moment she had decided they were _hers_ , the deal was done, no going back on it, no half measures. She would have gone to the end of the Earth for them. She _had_ gone to the end of Panem for them…

“What happens if…” she hesitated. It felt like she would jinx them if she uttered aloud what had been worrying her for a while. “What happens if she bolts, Haymitch?”

Because, the way she saw it, it was a definite possibility.

He gently nuzzled Amy’s hair with his cheek, his eyes on her. “We wanted houses close together… Maybe we just find _one_ big house.” He shrugged. “I’m her mentor. _Technically_ , I’ve got guardianship over the kids from the Reaping to the Games, right? So…”

She shook her head. “I do not think it is specified in the Games’ regulations and I do not know the law that well.”

“I’m gonna ask the lawyer tomorrow. Just in case.” he promised, searching her eyes. “You’re alright with this, yeah? If it comes down to it…”

“Do you have to ask?” she huffed. “I would do it myself if I thought there was a chance they would release _the Mockingjay_ to an _escort_ ’s guardianship. Won’t _that_ be a problem? As far as they know we are married, after all.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know…”

He looked tired.

As tired as she felt.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. Perhaps we are worrying over nothing and Aster will come around.” she decided, standing up and reaching inside Caleb’s crib. With one baby in each arm, she left the nursery for the living-room and settled them on the baby cushion, making sure they were secure before stretching. Something definitely popped in her back. “What are you in the mood for? I will order some food. I finished the leftovers at lunch.”

“Don’t care.” he said, carefully putting Amy down with her brothers. He rubbed is face. “You think there’s any chance they’re gonna sleep tonight?”

“I will get up if they wake up.” she offered, reaching for the phone. “You need some proper rest.”

“So do you.” he pointed out, wrapping his arms around her and propping his chin on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with the monsters all day.”

“I am not _stuck_ with our monsters, Haymitch.” She snorted. “I _love_ taking care of them. Although I _do_ admit I would not mind some adult conversation. And three are a lot of babies to handle by yourself.” She burrowed back into him. “It won’t be for much longer and it is for Katniss. I can handle it.”

He kissed her neck again. Two slow kisses that made her forget what she wanted to do with the phone in the first place.

“I miss them.” he mumbled against her shoulder. “How _fucking_ weird is that? I’m out there for ten minutes and I already miss my monsters.”

She hadn’t been away from her babies in weeks. Not even for ten minutes. The furthest she had gone to leaving them was going to the other side of the apartment. And even that was enough to make her panic sometimes. She worried about Caleb most of all because he was more fragile than the other two and the doctors had _stressed_ that they _shouldn’t_ hesitate to check in with them if they had a doubt. But she worried about Amy and Brody too. She worried all the time.

So, all in all, perhaps it was exhausting to take care of the babies by herself all day but she preferred that to leaving them for long periods at a time.

“They _are_ the cutest babies in Panem.” she stated very seriously, ignoring his chuckles. “It is _natural_ to miss them. Not much longer now. Once this trial is over, we can start looking at houses in Four…”

She was impatient.

Being in the Capitol limited her movements. She couldn’t take the babies out on a stroll for fear of being cornered by the press. It would be easier in _any_ District. Not perfect because they would still be public figures but it would afford them some anonymity.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah.” he sighed against her neck. “Can’t wait to get the _hell_ out of this city. Get the kids out. _All_ of them.”

She was _all_ in favor of that plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And how well is that plan going to work, do you think? XD Hasn't hayffie come a huge way? Look at them discussing stuff like mature adults... Do you love the babies? I will be very arrogant and pompous and confess I love my three little monsters. Will Aster bolt? Will the fact that hayffie is "married" a problem? Will they ever get to go to Four? I want your opinions!
> 
> (also just a word of update for this Sunday: I haven't finished the next episode of KTVS yes so there won't be an update on that front but I have a sequel to the president!Haymitch one for you instead)


	30. Chapter 30

Effie was waiting for him right behind the front door when he came home.

He froze for a second, unable to pinpoint what was so weird about her appearance – blond hair pulled up into a messy bun, light pink woolen sweater with flecks of golden threads, tight purple leggings – before realizing she wasn’t holding a baby and that had become so rare it registered as _odd_. Of course, maybe she just looked off because she was as pissed and upset as _he_ was.

“I didn’t have a choice.” he sighed.

He wanted to rant and rage but… He was too _exhausted_. Exhausted by that trial that had lasted _weeks_ … Exhausted by the lack of sleep… Exhausted by the _fucking_ odds that were always stacked against them…

They had almost made it too…

_Almost_ …

“What happened?” she snapped. “This morning… When you left everything was _fine_. The deal was secured. _Everything was supposed to be fine_!”

A soft noise came through the baby monitor in her hand but she ignored it. Her eyes were wide and she was so obviously working herself into a panic…

What _had_ happened?

It had all gone downhill so fast he could barely remember.

The previous day, he and Plutarch had finally gotten the judge to agree to a deal. Katniss would be released in Aster Everdeen’s custody and declared incapable, as had been the plan all along. But that morning, right before the final court session started…

He fished a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. It was a short letter, one he had read ten times and now knew by heart.

Effie skimmed it once, looked at him in disbelief and then read it over once more.

“There was one for the judge and there’s also one for Katniss.” He scowled. “She left them at the lawyer’s.”

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ” Effie hissed.

Was he kidding about Aster Everdeen deciding to move to Four to help build a hospital and hoping to see them all over there soon but not feeling up to being _responsible_ for her daughter anymore?

“I wish.” He rubbed his face. “What’s done is done.” He shook his head. “Are we camping in the hallway or…”

She stormed off toward the living-room, rereading the letter as she walked.

He understood the feeling but he wanted to tell her she could spare herself the effort. There was no hidden message, no code to break through… It was all pretty straightforward. Aster had bolted, just like he had been afraid she would, asking him in a letter to take up the girl’s guardianship instead because she knew he would do better by her. The letter to the judge had been to the same effect. The one to Katniss… He hadn’t read it.

It had been a blow but not an unexpected one. They had had a contingency plan in place. _Of course_ he was going to step up.

But then everything had gone awry.

Aster leaving didn’t inspire confidence in the Mockingjay. In minutes, they had lost control of the situation entirely.

The judge had stipulated that if Katniss was to be released it would come hand in hand with a banishment to Twelve that could be amended at an ulterior date provided her mental state improved. Taking Katniss’ guardianship meant going back to Twelve for what was likely to be _years_.

Haymitch had hesitated.

It was a lie to say he hadn’t.

He had hesitated, right there on national TV, for everyone to see.

Because it wasn’t just _himself_ he was committing.

But then the judge had specified the alternative would be internment. In the city. Probably in one of those psychiatric clinics that, _frankly_ , disturbed him. It wouldn’t be a nice one like Peeta’s because Peeta’s was costing a pretty penny. It would be a state funded one, a _prison_ , where she would be swallowed by the system and chewed out… Effie had warned him about what the Capitol did to people who weren’t right in the head. And it wasn’t pretty. 

What else was there to do but stand up and say “I volunteer”?

Plutarch had told him he should have spared them all the dramatics and it _had_ seemed to annoy the judge a little but… When you were doomed on live TV, you might as well go out with a bang. That had always been his attitude, at least, from his own Reaping.

He dropped on the couch, wondering what kind of magic she had worked to make sure the babies would be down for the count by the time he came home. Effie started pacing, glaring daggers at that letter.

“Can we appeal the sentence?” she asked. “At least get the banishment part lifted?”

He shook his head, leaning his elbows on his thighs. “The lawyer advised against it. Says it’s already a miracle they agreed to release her _at all_ given the circumstances.”

“That woman!” she spat, crumpling the letter in her fist, not unlike what he had done earlier.

“I didn’t have a choice.” he repeated. “I knew… Look, I knew you’d be pissed. Trust me, _I’_ m pissed. But…”

“Of course you did not have a choice.” she snapped. “I am not angry _with you_. I am just… What are we going to do?”

He swallowed hard, watching her go back and forth, lifting her hands in the air and letting them fall back down…

“Pack.” He shrugged. “The hovercraft leaves tomorrow morning.”

She froze and turned to him. “ _Are you kidding me?”_

That was twice she had asked that.

“I wish.” He snorted. “It’s all we could get. They wanted me to go get her right out of court and disappear with her. Plutarch reminded them I was a father of three.” He snorted again. “You want my thoughts, they were hoping for something like this. Twelve’s victors and the last escort… Out of sight, out of mind. It’s better for the rebels.” He let out a long breath and rubbed his face. “ So, yeah… Tomorrow morning, sweetheart. I’m thinking essentials only. Plutarch’s gonna send the rest of our stuff over as soon as possible.”

She was still staring at him, her features schooled into a blank mask. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him at all. He could almost _see_ the wheels and cogs turning behind her blue eyes.

“What about Peeta?” she asked.

“Peeta’s gonna stay in the clinic until Aurelius thinks he’s ready to come home.” Haymitch countered. “I called him from the court house. The boy watched the trial, he said he would join us when he can.”

“We _cannot_ leave Peeta.” she argued. “He needs support and…”

“Plutarch will visit and make sure he’s safe.” Haymitch cut her off, _really_ wary now. He knew what she wasn’t quite outwardly saying. _He_ _knew_. He had known from the moment the judge had mentioned Twelve. “The boy knows we don’t have a choice. He understands. He’s okay with it.”

She averted her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. “Haymitch.”

“Don’t _fucking_ say it, alright?” he growled. “It’s not what we agreed on and I _fucking_ don’t wanna go either but it’s the cards we’ve been dealt. It’s for our tributes. Kids come first. Ain’t that what we always said? Don’t _fucking_ say it.”

Of course, she was Effie, so she _did_ say it anyway.

“We cannot bring the babies to Twelve.”

“Steve’s back in Thirteen.” he told her. “If there’s a problem, it’s close enough.”

“That is _not_ what I mean and you know it.” she argued tiredly. “Twelve is… It is _destroyed_.”

“The Victors’ Village’s still standing.” he countered. “Some people are back already. Sae, Thom… They’re gonna rebuild eventually.”

“And you believed they were crazy to want to do so.” she reminded him.

“Yeah, well…” He licked his lips, looked up at her. “We don’t exactly have a choice.”

“A ruin of a District is _no_ place for babies.” she insisted.

“I am _not_ leaving them behind.” he snarled. It had occurred to him that it was the best option, at least temporarily. But the mere thought of leaving the monsters… He couldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_. It made him want to go straight to a bottle or take his knife and seriously hurt himself or a thousand bad choices in between. He couldn’t abandon his children. “How would that even work? You can _barely_ make it half a day alone with them.”

“I am _perfectly_ capable…” she hissed.

“I know you’re _fucking_ capable.” he interrupted. “I’m just saying we’re barely _fucking_ managing when it’s two of us full time.” He shook his head. “I’m not leaving them. I’m _not_ , Effie.”

Her face twisted with anguish. “I do not want to do it alone and I do not want you to leave us but, Haymitch… Even without taking Twelve itself into consideration, I am not comfortable leaving Peeta…”

“Look.” he cut her off. “The way I see it, we’ve got four options. None of them good.” She sighed and perched herself on the edge of the coffee table. He grabbed her hands. “Option A. I go with Katniss, you stay behind with the babies and you come to Twelve when Peeta’s ready, though that could be months. We both know I won’t last a week before I start drinking again.” He would never be able to bear being separated from the babies that long, dark thoughts would haunt him back alone in that old house of his and it would be… _No_. “Option B. I go to Twelve with Katniss and I take the babies with me, probably _fuck_ up a lot and end up begging Sae for help. You stay behind to wait for Peeta.”

“No.” she refused flat out. Then, she rolled her eyes. “And, yes, I _do_ get the point. You cannot leave them any more than I can.”

“Option C.” he insisted. “I go to Twelve with Katniss, you stay behind to wait for Peeta. We split the babies between us.”

“ _That_ is insane. And _barbaric_.” she scoffed. “They would be unhappy, _we_ would be unhappy…” She shook her head. “It is certainly more manageable that a single one of us taking care of the three alone full time but that will also happen _over my dead body_.”

“So, option D, then.” He shrugged. “We take the babies, we go to Twelve with Katniss and we check on Peeta on the phone as much as we can. Maybe take a couple of trips to see him. Can probably arrange it with Plutarch, hitch a ride on a hovercraft from Thirteen… I’m supposed to stay with Katniss so it’s gonna have to be you but… I think we can maybe get you to make the trip once a week, once every two weeks… I don’t know.” 

She let out a long irritated breath, turning her hands in his so their palms were pressed together. “It is not _just_ that I hate the idea of living in Twelve…”

He scowled. “You think _I_ don’t?”

It was like a tailor-made punishment for his own involvement in Coin’s death and he was starting to wonder if it wasn’t _exactly_ what it was. Sending him back to his own personal version of hell… Out of the way of any political scheming…

“The District is in ruins and the babies…” She sighed again. “They are fragile, Haymitch. Your house…”

“Phone lines have been patched up so the refugees can call for help if they need to.” he dismissed. “I’m gonna call Sae when we’re done fighting so she can make sure the house’s clean, alright? It won’t be perfect…”

“We won’t have a nursery.” she argued.

“We’re gonna paint one.” he promised, half-begging. “The cribs can go in our room for a few days. We’re gonna turn the guest room into a nursery and it’s gonna be fine. Plutarch swore he’d have your place packed up and sent over in a couple of days.”

She watched him, a bit sad. “A couple of days, you say…”

He knew where she was going with that and he shook his head. “No. _Don’t_ ask that of me, sweetheart. Not even for two days. _Please_ , don’t. I _can’t_. I _swear_ , Effie, I’m _sorry_ but I _can’t_.”

Even a few days without the monsters…

He wouldn’t be able to face Twelve with any sort of dignity or bravery if he didn’t have her and their kids or, as an alternative, a bottle.

She stared at him hard and she knew him so well… She guessed exactly what he was thinking.

Her shoulders slouched in defeat. “If I _ever_ find myself in front of Aster Everdeen again, I might very well _punch_ her.”

“I’ll hold your purse.” he joked, relief flooding through him, making him almost dizzy. “You’re coming tomorrow then? With the babies?”

“ _If_ Sae thinks they can make the house clean enough for three babies in that amount of time.” she warned. “And… You realize we won’t get _any_ sleep tonight? There is _too much_ to pack. It means we have to dismantle some of the furniture… _That_ cannot wait a few days for Plutarch to pack my place. It might almost be more expedient to buy new ones and take the boxes with us tomorrow… We need cribs and a changing table _at_ _the_ _very_ _least_.”

“Let me call Sae.” he requested. “See what we can do. Maybe there’s stuff we can borrow for a few days over there.”

“ _Clean_ stuff.” she insisted.

“Clean stuff.” he promised, leaning forward to kiss her hard on her lips. “ _Thank_ _you_.”

He had been scared she would make him go without her.

The whole ride back from the court house he had been scared she would make him go without her.

It was the sensible thing, he knew, the _safe_ thing.

But the babies…

He couldn’t…

He couldn’t leave them behind.

He needed to protect them.

He needed to make sure they were safe.

He _couldn’t_ …

“Don’t thank me yet.” She snorted. “I see a lot of ranting and nagging in your future.” She placed a long peck on his lips and stood up. “I will start packing. Go call Sae.”

With the difference in time zones, he luckily reached the old woman easily. The communication wasn’t as clear as he would have liked. The line sizzled and cracked but it was working enough that he could summed up what had happened and asked her for help. When he hung up, he didn’t feel as relieved as he had previously.

He found Effie in their bedroom, forcing clothes into a huge suitcase. She glanced at him. “Did you get a hold on her? We need warm clothes, right? It is not that cold here anymore but in Twelve, it will be, won’t it? Do we have clothes warm enough for the babies? Do not just _stand_ there, Haymitch. I need you to go to _Morano’s_ , he probably has a few empty cardboard boxes he could spare. I will call Plutarch, he will need to send people over for this tomorrow morning. I do not think he realizes what it means to go _anywhere_ with three babies, even for a few days… I also need to call my parents. They will _murder_ me if I move to the other side of the country again without warning them first. And they will want to say goodbye to the babies, I suppose. And try and convince me this is madness…”

“Maybe it is.” he said flatly.

That stopped her dead in her tracks.

She turned to face him, a handful of lacy panties in her hand. “I beg your pardon?”

He ran a hand over his face. “Sae says… The Village’s mostly fine. They can have both our house and Katniss’ ready for use by the time we arrive… She doesn’t think it’s risky to bring the babies there if they give it a thorough cleaning.”

“That’s good.” she commented uncertainly. “Why do you look so gloomy?”

“The rest of the District…” He shook his head. “Hovercrafts can only land next to the meadow. We’re gonna have to walk to the Village.”

She frowned a little. “Hence, why I will be calling Plutarch and tell him about how we need _muscles_ to carry everything.”

“No, you don’t get it…” He winced. “She said it’s… It’s _really_ bad. _Corpses still in the street_ bad.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the panties in her hand for a moment and then forced a smile. “We will take the baby wraps. I _just_ had a third one delivered in green. That is Katniss’ favorite color, isn’t it? She can carry one of them. We trust her to do that, don’t we?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I know they are too young to remember but we _cannot_ let the babies see any of this. They shouldn’t be able to see from the wrap.”

“It’s not just the sight.” he warned. “There are a lot of flies. Like… _A lot_. In the Village too but Sae says it’s not as bad.”

“If you have fabric thick enough around, I can sew a net for the cribs.” she declared. “And for the windows probably.”

“There are carrions too.” he told her. “Not many ‘cause most of the bodies have been charred by the chemical fire but some. Not in the Village itself though, that’s safe. But it does mean we’re gonna have to be _real_ careful for a while. And there’s the smell.”

She stared at him, unfazed. “Are you trying to discourage me?”

He avoided her eyes. “Just want you to know what you’re signing for. Cause… Cause I’m being a selfish ass and I know it.”

A good father would probably leave her behind with his children until it was perfectly safe to bring them over, until the District was more than rubble and decay.

But that…

That would take _months_.

Perhaps close to a year.

And he wouldn’t be allowed to leave Katniss to visit them, not even for a couple of days. That were the terms of the deal.

If he left his family behind, it might be a year before he saw the babies again.

“Well… I will admit I do not have the slightest idea of what living in the wilderness encompasses but I can also guarantee the reality of it won’t be as bad as I imagine.” she retorted, carefully lying the panties in the suitcase and fetching some boxers from another drawer. Then she stopped again and wrinkled her nose. “There _is_ running water and electricity, right? That _is_ where I draw the line, Haymitch.”

He snorted.

And then he was chuckling.

That was his city girl alright…

“There’s running water and they got the electricity working.” he confirmed. “Sae says it never ran better. Some engineer from Thirteen hooked them up, sounds like.” 

“Perfect.” she declared. “Now, kiss our monsters hello and go fetch boxes before I change my mind.”

She wouldn’t, though.

Once Effie Trinket had set her mind on something…

“Oh, and, Haymitch…” He stopped on the threshold and turned back to watch her. There was a small smile on her lips. It was a little sad but also mostly fond. “I am not certain it is _selfishness_. You lost a lot of people and I know just how important family is to you. And, truth be told, I do not want to be apart from you either and _I_ certainly would _not_ be able to do the noble thing and leave my babies behind to go live in Twelve, Katniss and Peeta notwithstanding.”

It made him feel slightly better.

She had been candid when she had told him they wouldn’t get much sleep though. There _was_ a lot to pack – and _buy_. They needed to stock up on formula, diapers – she _refused_ to hear about reusable nappies, understandably arguing that he wasn’t the one doing the laundry – wipes, baby powder, creams and the thousand things that went hand in hand with taking care of not one but _three_ infants.

Her parents showed up at some point close to midnight, a bit disheveled and very desperate to convince her to stay. Her mother even argued that she could move home with them for a while so she didn’t have to take care of the babies alone and that she could join him later on with Peeta when Twelve would be safer.

Truth be told, he thought it was the idea of going back to her parents that cemented the project of _leaving_ in her mind.

It _truly_ was a short night though. Between the terrifying amount of packing to do and the babies who woke up and cried every half hour as if they knew they were about to be torn away from their comfortable familiar environment for the second time, they barely managed to grab an hour-long nap before dawn.

Effie was still frantically trying to pack as much stuff as possible when he had to leave for the Training Center, taking a last regretful look at the apartment she would likely sell in the near future.

He hadn’t thought it was possible but… He had been happy in there. It was their first real home in many ways.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked, a bit uncertainly, when she dropped what she was doing to see him to the door.

“ _I_ am never late, darling.” she joked, raising on tiptoes to peck his lips. “We will be on that hovercraft, me and the babies, I promise. I am impatient to see Katniss. Tell her.”

“Sure.” He kissed her again and resisted the urge to go look at his sleeping monsters one last time. He was only leaving them for a short while. Plutarch would pick them up – and the dozen of boxes he probably wasn’t expecting – before meeting them on the Training Center’s roof.

Katniss, as it turned out, didn’t seem to care much that Effie was impatient to see her.

She didn’t seem to care much about anything, not even the breakfast Haymitch insisted she ate.

For someone who had been all alone for weeks, she didn’t look particularly happy to see him.

She answered with monosyllabic words and did a good enough job of frustrating him that he started wondering why he was even bothering to bring his children to a wild dangerous place for her. Then, of course, she tossed him _that_ look, like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and he remembered.

He _loved_ that idiotic girl.

The moment they stepped in the hovercraft, Effie collided with the girl, hugging her close, drawing her back at arm’s length to study her too thin frame only to hug her tight again, spitting too many words and too quickly to properly make sense…

Katniss must have gotten the gist of it though – Effie had missed her terribly, she had made her worry _sick_ so, _please,_ could she _never_ do something like that again, and, _oh_ , how happy she was to see her – because she hugged back after a long embarrassing moment.

When Effie finally released her, after telling her a few well-intended lies about how good she looked, there was a small hesitant ghost of a smile on the girl’s lips.

Haymitch nudged her further into the hovercraft to where the seats were, mostly ignoring Plutarch’s cheerful greetings and his explanations that he was going to Three because the Secretary of Communication’s job was never done. Katniss didn’t seem much more impressed than he was but she did manifest some interest in the three brand new baby seats he had never seen before – Plutarch’s doing probably. Or, rather, she manifested some interest for the screaming infants _inside_ the new baby seats.

“This is Amy.” Effie immediately made the introductions, urging the girl closer. “And here is Caleb. And this is Brody.”

She beamed at Katniss waiting for a reaction…

Katniss stared at the babies, cautiously brushing her finger against Amy’s little hand, and then looked up at Haymitch. “Is it safe for them in Twelve?”

Effie’s smile dimmed.

Haymitch tried not to get annoyed because he was _incredibly_ aware that, no matter what Effie said or the various reasons that made it impossible for him to do the reasonable thing, he was being selfish. All the way down to the core. 

But to miss so much of his children’s lives…

To abandon them like _he_ had been abandoned…

To be unable to make sure they were safe and sound at all times…

“Safe enough.” he dismissed, hoping he wasn’t lying. “Ain’t like we really had a choice, sweetheart.”

The girl flinched and moved away from the babies.

“You have to look after me, don’t you? As my mentor? That’s why you’re all coming back.” the girl deduced.

She would have moved away from them all if Effie hadn’t wrapped her arms around her again and guided her to a seat.

“We are a team.” Effie reminded her firmly. “ _A family_. We stick together. The babies will be right as rain. We will make sure they are. You will help, won’t you, dear?”

Katniss opened and closed her mouth a few times without a sound and then silently gave Effie a sharp determined nod.

“My mother’s not coming back.” The girl said after a while.

“She’s helping to start up a hospital in Four… You know why she can’t come back.” he muttered, handing her the letter her mother had left for her. It was kinder to let her think Aster’s decision was about Twelve, he mused, and avoided Effie’ s and Plutarch’s gazes, she didn’t need to know the ugly details. He waited until she had read it, not surprised to see _she_ wasn’t surprised, before lifting his eyebrows. “Want to know who else won’t be there?”

“No.” Katniss replied. “I want to be surprised.”

He snorted but didn’t comment.

Aside from the babies, they were both mostly quiet for a good portion of the trip. Plutarch and Effie, as proper Capitols were to do, provided most of the polite chatter about the weather. Once the former Gamemaker was gone, Haymitch made sure Katniss ate her sandwich, grumbling and nagging until she took an actual bite like he grumbled and nagged when Caleb didn’t want to take his bottle.

Effie didn’t say anything but he saw her hide her smile into Brody’s hair.

The girl pretended to sleep the rest of the way, which suited him just fine.

“We should warn her about what to expect.” Effie whispered, probably not as attuned to their victor’s fake-sleeping as he was.

“She’s been there before. She knows what to expect.” he argued.

Effie pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “You have been snapping at me for hours, Haymitch, and I would thank you to _stop_. This predicament is _not_ my fault and I am not any more pleased than you are to move to Twelve.”

He had been growing tense and grumpy, that was true. He groaned something that could probably be constructed as an apology and hugged Caleb close to his chest like a teddy bear for the last portion of the trip.

On landing, Katniss wasn’t entirely happy to be saddled with one of the babies in the wrap thingy but Effie shot her a no-nonsense look. “Caleb is the quietest and the less prone to fussing. The wrap keeps him perfectly secure, you do not even need to hold him. You will be _just_ fine. Make sure he does not see horrors, that is all I am asking you.”

She checked and rechecked the baby wrap was on correctly, reminding Katniss for the third time she didn’t need to support him like she was doing because the aim of the wrap was to have one’s hands free. But the girl seemed panicked enough to be carrying one of them – even in a wrap – that she kept a firm careful hold on his back with both arms anyway.

Haymitch liked it better that way anyway.

“Let’s go.” he encouraged, gruff, leaving the soldiers Plutarch had commandeered to deal with all their stuff.

The trip to the Village was exactly as terrible as he had feared. Even Effie grew deadly quiet. Katniss clung to the baby and made good progress, better progress than either of them did.

Haymitch was…

The destruction had been obvious and terrible to see on the pictures and the screens but it was worse to witness it in person. The Seam was _entirely_ gone. What hadn’t burned had been blown away. And the town…

They had to climb rubbles. Get in and out of deep craters when they were impossible to walk around…

Haymitch kept a firm hold on Effie’s arm, afraid she would slip and crush Amy to death. Katniss seemed to be doing alright enough, speaking in low tones to Caleb all the while…

He wasn’t sure what she was telling their baby but he trusted it couldn’t be bad.

Finally reaching the Village was a relief.

Although Effie made a fuss when the girl headed straight for her house after handing their son back.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with us, dear? Haymitch has two spare rooms, we need one for the babies but you can _absolutely_ have the other…” she pleaded.

Katniss was determined to go home though and Haymitch didn’t argue the point. He told her he would see her the next day.

Sae met them at his house and fussed over the babies enough that Effie took an instant liking to her.

The house, fortunately, was true to the old woman’s description: _untouched_. Thanks to Hazelle’s work before the war, once the dust had been wiped away, it was comfortable enough. He would need to watch the boiler, Sae told him, because Thom said it was making a weird clicking noise, but, mostly, it was like nothing had changed.

Except for the impossible to ignore monsters.

Having Brody in his arms stopped him from freaking out too much. That and the way Effie leaned against his side, never too far, as if she knew exactly where his mind would go if she stopped pestering him for a second.

It was a few hours before the soldiers had carried everything and Effie was satisfied with the space she had created for the babies, Haymitch felt like he was ready to drop asleep by the time there was nothing more to do and he was allowed to flop down on his old bed.

Not as large or comfortable as the one at her place but still better than the one from Thirteen.

“Are you alright?” she asked, lying down next to him. She was fighting to keep her eyelids open. It had been _a long_ twenty-four hours.

Was he alright?

It was exactly the scenario he hadn’t wanted, the one he had feared all along, being stuck back in Twelve, being…

She snuggled closer to him, reaching across his chest to check the baby monitor was on, before dropping her arm around his waist.

And he realized that, yes, he _was_ alright.

Because Effie was there.

Because his babies were there.

“Yeah…” he mumbled in her hair, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “Just, you know… Home sweet home.”

“It could be, you know.” she hummed.

He snorted. “What?”

“A home.” She was drifting off, he heard it in her voice. “It was not what we wanted but that does not mean it has to be horrible. I have you, the babies and Katniss… Peeta will be with us soon… It is more than I thought I would get at the beginning of the war. If it has to be in Twelve… So be it. We can make our home here. Let’s make it good, Haymitch…”

He coiled his hand at the back of her nape, feeling his own eyelids drooping. “Okay. Let’s make it good, princess…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! Were you surprised by hayffie's decision? Do you think Effie should have stayed behind with the babies? Was Haymitch being selfish? Will they manage to make Twelve a good home? 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!


	31. Epilogue - 5 years later

Haymitch watched Caleb run after his brother, looking out for the warning signs of an asthma attack.

They often hiked up to the lake for picnics but it was harder on Caleb in springs. His asthma could be bad enough to warrant trips down to the clinic in town. It had certainly panicked Effie and him more than once in the last five years. He had always been the most fragile of the three…

The toddler seemed fine though, despite the pollen in the air.

“I have the inhaler in the bag.” Effie told him quietly, always attuned to his thoughts. 

He stopped staring at the boys to lie back down on the thick picnic blanket next to her, propping himself on his elbows so he could still see what was going on. She didn’t bother. She was lying down on her back, pink sunglasses on her nose, enjoying the trickles of sunshine that spilled through the thick foliage of the trees. He let his eyes roam over her for a moment, musing that the blue sundress was new and he was really digging it…

“I know.” he finally acknowledged once he was done ogling her. When had she _ever_ forgotten the inhaler? They always checked when they left the house with Caleb. _Hell_ , they had _three_ in case of emergency. “You’re looking good, princess…”

She chuckled and shot him a look. “Flattery, flattery…”

Amy shrieked and they both turned their head in the direction of the lake in which Peeta was tossing the girl in the air. Haymitch had refused full point to enter the lukewarm water but the boy hadn’t been able to resist the monster’s little pleading eyes – because Peeta _never_ said no to any of the babies if he could help it, it was a running joke in their little makeshift family and something of a plot twist since he had thought it would be either him or Effie who would be the whipped one.

“Dear, please be careful!” Effie called out.

Haymitch wasn’t sure which one of them she was talking to: the boy or their intrepid girl. Amy had her water rings and Peeta would never let her come to any harm but she played rough sometimes –which would _never_ stop being funny to him because she looked like a tiny Effie replica with grey eyes. Her long perpetually tangled blond hair flew around her head like a halo when Peeta tossed her again…

He smirked when her laughter echoed all around, musical enough that a few mockingjays took it up.

That brought an end to the boys’ tag game. They both snapped their faces up, trying to spot the birds in the trees.

They were _obsessed_ with those birds. They had stuffed toys, pictures all over their walls and, not six months earlier, Peeta had illustrated for them a few of the made-up stories Katniss had invented for them. The stories were favorites of his children’s. They were about a lost Mockingjay trying to find its way home, perpetually meeting and losing other animals…

The metaphors weren’t subtle but he and Effie allowed it because… Well… It was meaningful, wasn’t it? And they were too young to fully understand how sad the stories truly were. To them it was about the adventures of their favorite animal.

Amy was less fond of the stories or of the birds but, then again, the boys were a package deal and the girl was the boss of them. She was more independent than the boys, she wanted to do stuff by herself, stuff alone with him or Effie or Peeta or Katniss when Caleb and Brody _hated_ being separated and wanted to do everything _together_.

“Auntie Kat!” Caleb exclaimed when Katniss appeared from between two trees, her hands full of little flowers. _Primroses_. “Auntie Kat! Look, the birds!”

Amy, having spotted the flowers, escaped Peeta’s arms and paddled to the shore – well, she paddled to the shore and the boy helped speed up the process by helpfully pushing on her bottom.

“Auntie Kat, do the thing!” Brody added to his brother plea. “Do the thing!”

They looked so much alike, his boys… Like mirrors of each other. Their features were almost identical. But Caleb was shorter and had the same reddish blond hair his mother and his sister did when Brody’s shade was lighter, closer to his own. They had his nose too, which was unfortunate according to some.

“Auntie Kat!” Amy joined her brothers, soon followed by the dog that had been lazing in a puddle of sunlight. “Auntie Kat, can I have the flowers? Please, please, _please_!”

In a matter of seconds, Katniss was swarmed by three very excited children and one dog. The four of them were jumping around, making a game of it.

Haymitch looked down at his wife who wasn’t moving a finger and wasn’t even watching the scene. There was a knowing smile on her lips though.

“You wanna save the girl?” he asked.

“Katniss and Peeta should have known better than sneak them cookies on the trek up when I forbade it.” she declared, more amused than irritated. 

He snorted. “Ah, I was wondering where the sugar rush was coming from…”

Peeta came to his girlfriend’s rescue by grabbing both boys around the waist and swinging them around like bags of flour – which never failed to trigger giggles. Meanwhile, Katniss surrendered her flowers bounty to Haymitch’s daughter with a small smile that told him it had been her aim all along.

Katniss wasn’t as at ease with the monsters as Peeta was, she had never been, but there was no denying she loved them and was as fiercely protective of the three kids as the rest of them were. Sometimes, Haymitch mused that his babies were the best protected babies of Panem save, perhaps, for Finn Odair.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as she had her prize, Amy started running toward the blanket he and Effie were lying on, losing a few flowers on her way. Haymitch braced himself and was glad for it when his five year-old just _flopped_ across his stomach like he was a perfect mattress for that sort of stunt. She also had the presence of mind of holding out the flowers so they wouldn’t get crushed.

“Mama! Can you make me a crown?” she requested, dropping the flowers in the space between his and Effie’s bodies.

Effie hummed thoughtfully. “I _probably_ could if you remembered the magic word.”

“Pleaaaaaaase!” Amy drew it out so long that Haymitch grabbed her and flipped her around so she was lying on his chest like they used to do when she was still a baby. She was getting too big for that now and he wanted to enjoy every second of this while it lasted. They were growing up _so fast_. “Papa!” she laughed. “No tickles!”

Which meant she actually _wanted_ the tickles.

He obliged while Effie braided the flowers into a small crown, smirking as his girl twisted and wriggled, letting out peals of musical laughter that the mockingjays picked up and turned into a melody.

Meanwhile the boys had started their favorite game of _let’s climb Uncle Peeta_. There was a variant called _let’s climb Papa_ and they were champions at it.

“Hey, frog…” He brushed Amy’s hair back, knowing better than to suggest they tied it up in a ponytail – to Effie’s despair, she hated having her hair done. “I think Uncle Peeta’s winning…”

Amy gasped and twisted so she could sit on his stomach and have a good view of what was going on. The fact that Katniss was actually cheering Caleb and Brody was lost on exactly nobody.

“Here you go, sweetie.” Effie said, dropping a crown of flowers on her head. Haymitch gave it approximately ten minutes before it was either lost or destroyed. “And one for Auntie Kat.”

“Thank you, Mama!” she chipped and then took off running in the others’ direction with a war cry. The war cry was probably a good thing because it alerted Peeta but not quickly enough that he could brace for the little rocket rushing toward him. He staggered back when Amy collided with his waist and, not unexpectedly lost his balance and fell backward in the water.

Effie immediately sat up, tensed and ready to run…

But Peeta had fallen where the water was still shallow and Katniss swiftly picked up the boys and settled them back on shore, both laughing their ass off. Amy had her water rings and started doing that dog paddle thing again. Peeta grabbed her before she could go too far into the lake and put her back on the shore where their dog greeted her by licking her all over the face.

“Be more careful! Play _away_ from the water.” Effie demanded in what they had long dubbed her _mom voice_. Even Katniss and Peeta knew better than disobey when she used _that_ tone. More than _‘yes, mama’_ and _‘no, mama’_ had been sarcastically uttered in the last five years…

Katniss rolled her eyes but minded her order and sat on a clutter of rocks a little to the side, accepting the sodden flowers crown Peeta had rescued from the water and placed on her head. He told her something, too low for Haymitch to hear, and leaned down to kiss her.

The monsters all started making grossed-out noises as was their new habits when they caught people kissing. The dog barked. The mockingjays were still singing to each other over their heads.

“What are you thinking?” Effie asked softly, running her glittery golden nails up and down his forearm.

He strained his neck so he could steal a kiss of his own while the kids were busy. They always got between them when they caught them kissing, it was all about separating Mama and Papa those days. The boys wanted her all to themselves and Amy was glued to his side all day. Mostly, it was funny.

“I’m thinking…” he breathed against her lips. “Of all the times I couldn’t stop myself from _fucking_ you, that time in Thirteen was the best.” 

He could _barely_ remember how he had felt back then when they had discovered she was pregnant. The terror, the dread, the _regret_ …

He couldn’t imagine _not_ having the monsters, now. 

It hadn’t all been easy, of course. They had had a rough couple of years, trying to jungle with three young children, Peeta’s episodes, Katniss’ depression and their own problems… But they had found some sort of stability too. They had found a way to _live_ , to _really_ live.

They had found peace.

She laughed. “How sweet you always make those things sound…” 

He smirked and pecked her lips again, making that one linger a little. “I try, sweetheart.”

She laughed harder, coiled a hand at the back of his nape and…

They were attacked by three little bodies that weren’t happy until they were nestled between the two of them. They both chuckled and obliged by closing their arms around the three of them in the sort of general cuddles they had been doing since the kids had been big enough for it. Eventually, Brody wriggled free long enough to rummage through the huge bag they dragged everywhere – toys, wipes, Caleb’s inhaler, anything they might need – and fished out his soft threadbare monkey. One glance at his brother and sister and he wedged the monkey under his armpit to grab Amy’s plushy frog and Caleb’s mouse. No words had been spoken but the triplets often worked like that.

The stuffed toys were joke gifts from Johanna.

The joke was on her, though, because the stuffed toys, like the nicknames, had stuck.

Brody settled back against Haymitch’s side after having handed the toys to their respective owner. He leaned against him, more tired than he was ready to admit, probably.

“Nap time, monsters, what do you say?” he suggested, reaching out to brush Caleb’s bangs out of his eyes. It was a mess of curls on his head.

There was a chorus of negative answers but when the dog came to curl up with them, they stopped protesting so much. Haymitch and Effie lied back down too.

That was a rule when you had triplets: if you could nap at the same time they did, _do_ _it_.

Peeta and Katniss joined them after a few minutes, hands loosely linked.

“Auntie Kat, do the thing…” Brody asked, not having forgotten about the mockingjays. “Please, please…”

“ _Pretty_ please.” Caleb added, slipping his hand in his brother’s.

Amy grabbed Caleb’s hand on his other side. “Please, Auntie Kat.”

The birds were still twirling and chirping over their heads.

“You do not have to, dear.” Effie was quick to remind her, wary of triggering bad memories.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Katniss dismissed and, Haymitch thought, she _truly_ didn’t. It wouldn’t have been the first time she humored the babies that way.

She started whistling a few notes. _Never_ the same four notes as in the arena. Those were cheerful, random.

The mockingjays, to the children’s delight, immediately picked up the melody, turning it into a beautiful chaotic chorus. Peeta slowly lied down next to Effie, watching the girl with big enamored eyes. 

If Haymitch hadn’t know about the ring hidden amongst painting supplies in the kids’ cellar, he would ask Peeta what the hell he was waiting for.

Katniss whistled another couple of notes and the chorus of birds changed their tune, combined the two…

It was truly beautiful to hear, _soothing_ even.

He watched his monsters sleepily peering at the foliage in hope of catching sight of a bird… One of them sometimes pointed up when they spotted a dash of white or a back tail…

After a few minutes, once the children were well and truly on their way to falling asleep, Katniss stopped playing with the birds to sing a ballad. The mockingjays slowly fell silent. And, as always when this happened, it felt magical.

Haymitch met Effie’s eyes over their babies’ heads.

She smiled back at him.

So perfectly happy, so perfectly content…

Not unlike him.

It was weird how a meager number of years could make a difference in someone. He wasn’t angry all the time anymore, he didn’t feel hatred, most days he didn’t even remember to be sad for all he had lost… He was too focused on all he had gained.

_When it rains, it pours_ , he had told her after they had learned they were having three babies. And he had meant it in a bad way then because they had been stuck in a _fucking_ storm, threatened to see their life destroyed by the hurricane that was the rebellion…

_When it rains, it pours_ but he had long decided the babies weren’t a storm or a hurricane, they were the _fucking_ monsoon after years of drought. Terrifying in its intensity but so necessary for life to crawl through, to _bloom_ …

And what _fucking_ beautiful blossoms they made, his monsters… 

Katniss finished her song and, for a few minutes, all was still, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, in case she picked up the tune again...

Next to him, his three toddlers were sleeping soundly.

Everything was peaceful.

Even him.

**THE END**

**(of the crack story that should have been 5 chapters)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me I'm emotional! Well... This is the end of the crack story I wrote in the first lockdown around a year ago... (And we're still in the same shit, who would have guessed XD). It was supposed to be a short 5 chapters things and as always with me, I let it turn into a baby monster of a chaptered story... I hope you enjoyed the ride! I hope it distracted you during those last few months! 
> 
> You're going to ask what next and the truth is for the first time ever I don't have another chaptered story ready to go after this one so I don't know. I have a two-shots story that will go up next week... After that we will see, I suppose. 
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts about this epilogue! About the story! Please let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Never when I'm at the helm, that's for sure ;) Soooooo Haymitch "slipped" because that happens you know XD I WONDER what will happen next... *wink wink, nudge nudge* What did you think? I hope you enjoyed this! I had so much fun writing this story... I really hope you like it! What are your theories? Ideas? Opinions? I want to hear it all :p


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